


EAD 2021 #2

by Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte



Series: Evil Author Day [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College Student Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Female Peter Hale, Past Child Death, Police Officer Chris Argent, Police Officer Peter Hale, Rule 63, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte/pseuds/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte
Summary: Evil Author Day Fic #2Have some fem!Peter + college student!Stiles, because what could possibly go wrong, right?
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Evil Author Day [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166861
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55
Collections: Minions' writings





	EAD 2021 #2

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Evil Author Day participation. If this is ever expanded and/or finished it will be reposted with an actual title.

“Okay, so I know this goes against Bro Code, but,” Stiles leans slightly in his seat so he can get an unimpeded view of the pool through the French doors of Derek’s living room, “your sister is smoking hot.”

Derek flicks a look up at Stiles over the rim of his glasses, “I’ll be sure to tell her that the next time I see her.” He smirks as he focuses his attention back on the notes spread out before him, “I’m sure she and her _girlfriend_ will appreciate it.”

Stiles levels a bitchface on Derek, “Dude! You saying that?” He cranes his neck, eyes drifting back to the lovely brunette poolside. His mouth drops open slightly when she sheds her cover-up and dives into the pool, distractedly muttering, “It isn’t helping matters any.”

Derek shoots a glare at Stiles, twisting in his seat when he realizes where Stiles is looking. He squints in an effort to figure out just which of his sisters is in the pool. When he finally realizes who it is, he snorts, “That’s not my sister.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, “Oh my… _please_ tell me that’s not your mom!”

“No! Fuck, no.” Derek shudders, “That’s my aunt.”

“Oh!” Stiles blows out a relieved breath, “Thank God.”

Derek quirks a brow, “I’m pretty sure it’s still a violation of the Bro Code.”

Stiles laughs, his whole body shaking with it, “Forget I said anything then.”

“Way ahead of you.”

* * *

Stiles sighs frustratedly as he rings the doorbell again. He peers through the stained glass windows on either side of the door, sighing at the deserted foyer he can see. Stiles curses under his breath. Maybe he got the time wrong? Or worse, the day? He’s pacing, too busy tapping out a text to Derek to notice when the front door opens.

“Stiles, right?”

Stiles whips around to face the front door. His mouth drops open. There, standing in the open doorway is Derek’s aunt.

“You’re Derek’s friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles snaps out of his stunned silence, “I’m Stiles.” He extends his right hand.

Derek’s aunt takes his offered hand, shaking it firmly, “Pietra.”

“Pietra…”

A cute scowl twists her mouth, “Yeah, my parents thought they were having a boy. They were dead set on the name ‘Peter.’ Then I was born, clearly not a boy, so they feminized it.” She presses her lips together, not quite sure why she shared that with someone she only just met. Pietra clears her throat, “Derek’s not here.”

“Oh.” Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head, “I must have screwed up the days.” He offers a sheepish smile up at Pietra, “Sorry I interrupted your day. I’m just gonna go.”

Pietra starts forward, “You don’t have to.” She gestures towards the interior of the house, “Derek should be home soon. You’re more than welcome to come inside and wait.”

Stiles teases lightly as he steps past her and in through the open door, “You’re not worried about being alone with me?”

Pietra’s lips press together, obviously trying to suppress a smile, “Oh, I don’t know,” she shuts the front door, her hands lingering on the heavy wood, “push comes to shove, I’m pretty sure I could take you.”

Stiles pauses to look over his shoulder, “Is that so?”

Pietra shrugs, “Maybe.” She crosses the foyer, her boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor, “Make yourself at home, Stiles. Derek will be home any minute now.”

Stiles calls out after her, “So you live here, too?” Silence greets Stiles’ question. He lingers in the entryway a little longer. When Derek’s aunt doesn’t answer, Stiles makes his way to the living room. He tosses his messenger bag onto the couch and drops down next to it, following Pietra’s suggestion of making himself at home. Stiles is reclined against one of the couch arms when he hears footsteps approach. He turns towards the sound.

Pietra is shrugging on a fitted leather jacket. She runs her hands over her hair, “In a matter of speaking.”

Stiles takes in Pietra’s outfit, eyes lingering on the handgun at her hip. His eyes lift to meet hers, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You asked if I lived here,” Pietra tilts her head, words slow, as if speaking to a child, “and I said, ‘in a matter of speaking.’”

“Oh! What does that mean, exac-”

_“Stiles?”_

Pietra turns towards the front hall, “We’re in here!” She presses a kiss to her nephew’s cheek the second he appears in the doorway. “Well, I’m off to work, darling. Try and stay out of trouble, yes?” She finger-waves at Stiles, “Nice meeting you.”

Stiles nods, “You too.” His eyes trail after her, lingering long after she’s gone.

“You’re pathetic.”

Stiles’ gaze snaps to Derek’s, “What?”

“You know she’s a cop right?” Derek shakes his head, “She’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had a chance to say a damn thing.”

Stiles smirks, “Ohhh, but what a way to go.”

* * *

“So,” Pietra drags out the word unnecessarily, “is your friend coming over today?”

“My friend?” Derek doesn’t even bother to look up from where he’s flipping through his dissertation notes, he simply murmurs distractedly, “What friend would that be?”

“Oh, you know,” Pietra shrugs, reaching over to take one of the leftover chips from the plate sitting forgotten to the left of Derek’s laptop, “Wait, do you have more than one friend?” She gasps dramatically, “Oh, Derek! You made another friend?! I’m so happy for you!”

“Uh,” Derek grunts at the fierce hug his aunt bestows upon him, “I hate you.”

Pietra nuzzles Derek’s temple, voice barely above a whisper, “Lie.”

Derek reaches back to cup his hand over the side of his aunt’s head. He leans into the hug, turning slightly to rub his cheek along her jawline. “To answer your question, Isaac and Boyd _are_ coming over later,” Derek quirks a brow at the look of disappointment that appears on Pietra’s face.

“Oh.” Pietra smiles, trying for nonchalance, “I’ll be sure to stay out of you guys’ way. Maybe I’ll make an early night of it and catch up on some sleep.”

Derek looks up to watch Pietra’s reaction when he says, “… _maybe_ Stiles, if he can make it.”

Pietra shoves another chip into her mouth, chewing slowly. She turns to meet Derek’s gaze head-on, expression defiant, “What?”

“A little young for you, isn’t he?”

Pietra scoffs, “I’m only five years older than you!”

Derek snorts a laugh. “And that would matter,” he leans back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest, “if you were wanting to date _me_.”

“Wh-” Pietra blinks, “what do you mean?”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Derek tells her needlessly, the rest of his words tempered carefully, “Stiles, on the other hand, just turned twenty-three.”

Pietra swallows hard, “Oh.”

Derek nods, “Yeah.”

“I thought you said he was in one of your classes…”

“One of the classes I _taught_ , Aunt Pete.”

Pietra scowls, “I hate when you call me that.”

Derek grins, “Lie.”

“Yes, well,” Pietra reaches for her glass of iced tea, muttering against the rim, “It’s not like it matters anyway.” She puts the glass down with enough force to crack it, “I’m tainted, remember?”

Derek stands up, quickly moving to his aunt’s side. He reaches for her arm, hoping to offer comfort, “Pete, that’s not-”

Pietra holds a hand up to silence him, “Just forget I said anything.” She offers him a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Have fun tonight, Derek.”

Derek rubs a hand over his forehead. His aunt is almost to her room when her quiet words reach him, words Derek is pretty sure she didn’t mean for him to hear, _“Someone in this house should.”_

It’s nearly two weeks before Derek is able to speak with his aunt. The day after their discussion, Pietra had volunteered for an undercover assignment and Derek had barely seen her, let alone had the opportunity to strike up a conversation. He’s sitting at the kitchen bar, eating his breakfast, when his aunt stumbles in sleepily. Derek’s head lifts at the bitter smell of antiseptic. In the next instant, he’s up and across the room, gently taking Pietra’s chin in his hand, “What happened?”

Pietra tries to pull out of his grasp, "I’m fine.”

Derek’s eyes flash red, “Pietra Elsbeth! Who did this to you?”

Pietra’s eyes flare in response to Derek’s, “It happened on the undercover mission. One of the johns was an Alpha. He backhanded me during the arrest.” She blinks her eyes back to human, and drops her gaze respectfully, “Don’t worry. If it makes you feel any better, Duke took some _extra_ _special_ care of him during booking.”

“He should have taken better care of YOU _during_ the mission,” Derek’s fingers carefully move Pietra’s hair aside. He winces at the bruise taking up most of the left side of her face, “Damn it, Pete.” Derek spreads his fingers to cover the entirety of the bruise, black veins instantly racing over the back of his hand and up his arm. He grits his teeth at the pain and whispers gently, “You need to be more careful.”

“I know.”

Derek stares at her a moment longer, finally pulling her into a hug, “You want some breakfast?”

Pietra allows Derek to hold her tight, letting his warmth comfort her. She pats Derek’s arm, “I prefer to take a shower and get some sleep.”

Derek cups her face once more, “You sure?”

Pietra offers up a smile, “I am.”

“Okay,” Derek nods, “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

“I know.”

Derek waits until Pietra’s almost to her door before calling out, “I promise to keep it down when the guys come over.”

Pietra turns to smile sadly, “You do that.”

* * *

“Oh! Hey,” Stiles tosses a balled-up paper at Derek’s head, “turn that up! I love this song.”

Derek picks up the paper and tosses it back, hitting Stiles square on the nose, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hmm,” Stiles makes a show of thinking hard. He even goes so far as to tap a finger on his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe,” Stiles drags the word out, “because you know all the gory details about my last relationship and how it ended?”

Derek concedes the point, “There is that.”

“You, uh,” Stiles looks up as the song ends, “have anything else by them?”

“Yeah,” Derek turns his laptop towards Stiles, “most of their stuff actually.” He takes a long look at his friend, “That kind of night, is it?”

“Woke up to another court summons.” Stiles throws his arms up and cheers sarcastically, “Yay!”

“Sorry, man, that sucks.”

Stiles shrugs, “What can you do?” He picks up a song and smiles faintly, “It’s all worth it in the end though, y’know?”

Derek nods, “Yeah.”

[Stiles’ choice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wi1HDYRf9tI&feature=emb_logo) starts to play and neither of them says anything else. Neither of them has to.

* * *

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Stiles, it’s fine.” Derek reaches out to pull him into the house, “I wouldn’t have said you could bring her if it wasn’t. Besides,” he shuts the front door and moves into the living room, “we have the house to ourselves.”

Stiles looks around, “what about your aunt?”

Derek waves a hand dismissively, “Her shift’s not over until midnight. Now,” he glances down pointedly, “are you going to introduce me?”

“Oh, yeah!” Stiles turns slightly to gently rest a hand on his daughter’s head, “Harley, this is daddy’s friend, Derek.”

When there’s no response from Stiles’ daughter, Derek smiles and crouches down to her level, “Hi.”

She peeks out from behind Stiles’ legs but says nothing.

“Harleen,” Stiles corrects gently, “thumb out of your mouth, thank you. Now can you say hello to daddy’s friend, please?”

Silence. 

Then a shy, “H’lo.”

“Nice to meet you, Harleen.”

“Harley!” She comes forward to correct Derek, the cutest little scowl on her face, lips twisted in a moue of displeasure, “Only Daddy calls me ‘Harleen.’ Rules.”

Derek bites back a laugh, “Oh! I’m sorry. See, I didn’t know there were rules.”

Harley tugs at the hem of Stiles’ shirt, “Daddy! You ’pose to tell the rules!”

“Forgive me.” Stiles lifts Harley up into his arms. He settles her on his hip and offers, “How about we tell Mr. Derek the rules _together_?” 

Harley thinks for a second, then nods, “’kay.”

“Right.” Stiles clears his throat and tells Derek seriously, “First rule: Only _I_ get to call her ‘Harleen.’”

Derek nods.

Harley leans to whisper something in Stiles’ ear. Stiles makes a complicated expression at her; one she responds to with an emphatic nod.

“Well, alright.” Stiles holds a hand out, all fingers curled into a fist, pinky extended, “Pinky Swear.”

Derek’s lips quirk but he reaches out to hook his pinky with Stiles’ then Harley’s.

“Second rule: No touching the hair, please.”

Derek quirks a brow, but holds his thumb out to both Stilinkskis.

“Third and final rule: No mention of either the birthmark or the scar. It’s not nice.”

Derek looks between them both, “Seeing as I have no idea what you’re talking about, of course.”

Harley gasps loudly. She cups her hands around Stiles’ ear, whispering loud enough for Derek to hear, even without werewolf hearing, “Daddy, he can’t see ‘em!”

Stiles smiles at Derek before whispering back, “Does that mean no Pinky Swear for Rule Three?”

Harley turns looks at Derek, eyes narrowed, “D’no.” She reaches out, and all but launches herself at Derek.

Derek, luckily, catches her. He hefts her into his arms, only to have his face grabbed by two small hands. His eyes flick over to Stiles then back to Harley, “Well, hi there.”

Harley leans in close, squinting at him suspiciously, “You b’oken?”

Derek chuckles, muttering under his breath, “Some would say so.”

Stiles laughs.

“Daddy!” Harley twists in Derek’s arms, to point at her father, “Not nice!”

Stiles instantly sobers. He wraps Harley’s wrist in his grip and leans forward to playfully bite her finger, “It’s also not nice to point, young lady.”

“Oh yeah.” Harley grins sheepishly, “Oopsy daisy.”

“Mmmhmm,” Stiles side-eyes his daughter, “oopsy daisy is right.” He takes Harley out of Derek’s arms and sets her down. He holds a small backpack out for her to take, “How’s about you color while daddy and Mr. Derek finish their work?”

Harley takes her backpack, “’kay!”

Derek waits until she’s busy coloring to tell Stiles, “Cute kid.”

Stiles grins, “Thanks. I help make her.”

* * *

Stiles barely has to open the front door before Harley is tackling Derek’s legs with an excited, _“Dee!!”_

“Oh!” Derek mock stumbles back from the impact, “Harley Girl! How’s my favorite trouble-maker? Are you keeping your daddy on his toes?”

Harley shrieks in glee as Derek flips her upside down so her legs are hooked over his right shoulder. She answers cheerfully, “Yup!”

Stiles waves Derek into the apartment with a laugh, “Now that _’_ s the understatement of the year.” He warns, “Please be advised: we both had bacon cheese fries, so if you make her hurl,” Stiles pointedly tells Derek, “ _you’ll_ be the one cleaning up two puddles o’ barf.”

Derek arcs a look at him, “Two?”

Stiles pats his belly with a grimace, “Empathetic vomiter.”

Derek snorts, “How’d _that_ work out when she was a baby?”

“Not very well, lemme tell ya.”

“I’ll bet.” Derek puts Harley down, smiling as she runs off to play with the toy cars strewn in one corner the living room. “Sorry for the change of plans. I, uh, didn’t mean to spring this on you at the last minute.” He clears his throat, “Aunt Pete had a few of her cop friends over and there was _no way_ we’d get any work done.”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Stiles shrugs, “it’s not a problem. This way I can tuck the munchkin in on time, and we can keep working.” He chews on his bottom lip and adds, “Plus, can I just say that I love that you call Pietra ‘Aunt Pete?’ Kinda makes me wonder what you call me behind my back…”

“Oh, you misunderstand,” Derek holds out a hand as he clarifies, “I call her that to her face.”

Stiles laughs, “No way! Oh my god, that’s great!”

“Yeah,” Derek sets his laptop bag on the small kitchen table, “My mom started calling her ‘Sister Pete’ after binge-watching the show _Oz._ Then us kids were born, and she changed it to ‘Aunt Pete’ as a joke, but the nickname just kinda stuck.”

“That’s hilarious.”

“Daddy.”

Stiles turns towards his daughter, “Yes, Pickle?” He leans so she can whisper in his ear, then quickly sits up in surprise, “You’re right, I _didn’t_! How very rude of me.” Stiles moves to the fridge and asks formally, “Derek, would you like something to drink? We have,” there’s the sound of items being moved around, “2% milk, soy milk, soy _chocolate_ milk, water, juice, strawberry lemonade, and beer. Wait, scratch that, I have no idea how long this beer has been in the fridge.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re are having.”

Harley rushes over to peer into the fridge, “Lem’nade.” She grins up at Stiles and adds, “Please.”

Stiles nods, “Thumb out of your mouth, please. Thank you.” He gestures vaguely, “Grab your cup.”

“Daddy,” Harley stops the closing refrigerator door, “wait!” She struggles to hold it open while reaching for something inside. Her excited voice precedes her triumphantly holding up a basket of fresh strawberries, “Here!”

Derek smiles to himself as he watches them prepare the glasses of lemonade, a faint tightening in his chest making the smile falter. He sits back in his seat, and removes his glasses, tiredly rubbing at his eyes.

“Cut or-”

“SQUISHED!”

Stiles laughs, “Squished it is.”

Derek looks up to find his friend using a spoon to press strawberries against the side of one glass, “I thought you were serving me lemonade? You look like you’re making a mojito.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Stiles winks at him, moving on to the next glass, “I used to be a bartender.”

Derek’s brows lift, “Used to?”

Stiles grins, “Yeah, I may have L-I-E-D about my age to get the job.” He pours the lemonade over the muddled fruit and holds the glass out to Harley, “Take this to Derek, please.”

“I see.” Derek sits forward to take his glass from Harley, “Thank you.”

“Y’welcome.”

Stiles hands Harley her cup and brings his over to the kitchen table. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Hello, homework, my old friend.” He sets an alarm on his phone for Harley’s bedtime and gets to work.

The next few hours pass in a blur.

* * *

“Okay,” Stiles adjusts the water wings on Harley’s arms, “you ready?”

Harley flicks scared blue eyes to the sparkling pool water, “Y-yeah.”

Derek swims to the edge of the pool. He reaches out to tap his fingertips on Harley’s toes, “C’mon, kiddo, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Stiles watches her swallow hard. He gives Derek a brief smile, then assures Harley, “Look, if you don’t want to go swimming, that’s totally okay. No one’s gonna make fun of you for it, Peaches.”

“But,” Harley’s face scrunches up, “I wanna.” She leans to whisper in her father’s ear.

Derek only manages to catch the word ‘scared.’ He ducks his head to hide his smile.

Stiles presses a kiss to her forehead, “I know, but you know what? Derek’s a really _great_ swimmer.”

Derek nods when Harley turns to look at him. He swims over to the pool steps, “You want to get in over here where it’s not deep? We can sit here for a little bit until you get used to it?”

“I d’no.”

“It’s just a little bit of water. Here, watch.” Derek stands so Harley can see just how shallow the water is, “See?”

Harley looks up at Stiles then walks over slowly, “Jus’ a li’l bit, ‘kay?”

Derek holds both hands out, “Yes, ma’am.”

Harley grabs both of Derek’s hands in a death grip before taking a tentative step into the pool, and then another.

Derek suggests gently, “You can sit down.” He smiles down at her, “Don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

“P’omise?”

“I promise.”

Harley eases down onto one of the pool steps, a smile splitting her face when she realizes the water doesn’t go higher than her chest. She giggles happily when Derek sits next to her, hands reaching out to slap at the water cautiously.

It takes another twenty minutes before Derek can actually take her out into the pool, but the smile on her face when she manages to make it from the pool edge to where he’s standing a few feet out? It’s completely worth it. Derek is so focused on her excited conversation with Stiles that he completely misses the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. 

Stiles tosses Harley up in the air gently, catching her easily. Her peals of laughter are infectious and before long, both Stiles and Derek are laughing as well. 

A glass breaking on the patio floor is what finally gets Derek’s attention. His head whips around at the sound and he’s up and out of the pool in an instant, muttering under his breath as he chases after Pietra, “Shit! Aunt Pete!” Derek looks over his shoulder for a second, “I’ll be right back,” then disappears into the house.

Stiles lifts Harley up onto his arms and cautiously makes his way out of the pool. He wraps her in a towel, head tilted to try and see what’s going on inside the house.

“Aunt Pete, take a deep breath,” Derek cups her face in his hands. He nods encouragingly, “There you go, that’s it. Another one.”

Tears are streaming down Pietra’s face, her eyes shocked and wide. She takes a shuddering breath and whimpers, “I-I-I-”

Derek pulls her into a hug, “I know, I know.” He rubs a hand over her back, “If I had known you would be home-”

Pietra’s nails dig into his back, “Sh-she,” her shoulders shake with fresh sobs, “she’s-”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Derek cups the back of her head, “I didn’t think.” He holds her for a few minutes before she pulls back from the hug. Derek presses a kiss to her temple and offers gently, “I can ask them to leave?”

“N-no.” Pietra shakes her head, one hand coming up to wipe at her tears, “It’s okay, I overreacted.” She smiles sadly, “It was just surprising, that’s all. The chlorine must have masked her smell until it was too late. You go, have fun with your friend. I’ll be out in a little bit.” 

“You’re sure?”

Pietra nods, “Yeah, I just need a few minutes.”

Derek stares at her for a second, then nods once. He lifts a thumb to lightly tap the end of Pietra’s nose, “Take your time.” Stiles is fully dressed and helping Harley with her shoes when Derek reappears in the living room, “You’re leaving?”

Stiles gives Derek a shaky smile. There’s a barely-there change in his heart rate when he says, “Yeah, I forgot Harls and I had dinner plans with my dad-”

Derek wipes a hand over his face, not wanting to call Stiles out on his lie, “You don’t have to go. I was going to make burgers for dinner and-”

“Don’t leave on my account.”

Stiles’ eyes flick to where Pietra is standing in the hallway, “No,” he assures her, “we’re not. Like I said before-”

“You wanna hug Wage?” Without her father to hold her back, Harley has made it to Pietra’s side. She’s holding a stuffed toy up, “[Wage](https://uglydoll.fandom.com/wiki/Wage) is my buddy. I hug’im when I’m sad. Here,” Harley pushes the orange plush into Pietra’s hand, “hug.”

Pietra takes the Wage plush and crouches down to Harley’s level. She hugs it to her chest. 

“Feel better?”

Pietra smiles, “Yes, thank you.”

Harley smiles back, “Y’welcome.”

“My name’s Pietra, what’s yours?”

“Harleen Stilinski.”

“Nice to meet you, Harleen. I had a,” Pietra clears her throat when her voice shakes slightly, “little girl about your age.”

Harley takes a breath and asks in a rush, “D’she hafta go ‘way like my mommy?” 

Stiles rushes forward to cover his daughter’s mouth with one of his hands, “Har- _leen_! I’m sure the nice police woman doesn’t want to hear why your mom had to go away.” He huffs under his breath, offering Pietra an embarrassed smile, “Sorry.”

Harley tugs her dad’s hand down off her face and asks loudly, “D’you have gun like my grampa?”

“I don’t know,” Pietra stands, “is your grandfather a policeman?”

“Yeah.” Harley nods, “He has a gold star on his shirt.” She looks up at Pietra and asks, “D’you have a gold star like grampa?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” Harley thinks a moment, “Wanna color?”

Stiles leans to whisper in his daughter’s ear, “Hey, how about you get your stuff so we can head home?”

“But,” Harley whines, “Burgers! Dee said, ‘member?”

“Harleen,” Stiles scoops her up, “I know what Derek said, but I think we overstayed our welcome. Now say goodbye-”

“No!” Harley pounds on Stiles’ chest with a tiny fist, “Dee said!” She takes a breath and wails, “I wan’ a burger!”

Stiles face heats up in embarrassment as Harley works herself up into a tantrum. He struggles to keep hold of her in his arms, gasping when she squirms free.

Both Derek and Pietra rush forward. It’s Derek that catches her, but both Hales look up simultaneously when Stiles reaches them.

Stiles’ quietly uttered ‘ _Holy shit!’_ is what makes both Derek and Pietra realize their eyes have shifted from human to wolf.

* * *

Stiles has never been happier to have the entirety of summer stretching before him. The semester kicked his ass and he knows it’s only because of Derek’s unending support that he managed to make it through unscathed. 

Stiles doesn’t make friends easily, but for some reason, Derek wormed his way past Stiles’ defenses. He sighs. It’s been days since he last spoke to Derek, but much longer since he’s been over to his house. Stiles doesn’t know why, but there’s been an unmistakable tension between them since that fateful afternoon. Conversations have become stilted, awkward, and Stiles hates it. 

Derek’s pulled away from him. He’s back to treating Stiles like nothing more than a student. 

Stiles misses the camaraderie but doesn’t know how to get their friendship back on track. He’s lonely, and he supposes that’s why he lets Isaac convince him to join some classmates from their Modern Mythology class on their night out, drinking round after round of celebratory drinks.

They’ve been at _Howl at The Moon_ long enough for Stiles to willingly admit that he’s more than a little drunk. He looks over when a particularly rowdy group comes in and cuts through the crowd on their way to the small karaoke stage tucked into one corner of the bar. His eyes linger on the nearly bare back of one of the brunettes in the group but turns away before anyone can catch him staring.

Stiles takes a long pull off of his beer, smiling when the unmistakable intro to “I Love Rock & Roll” starts up. He turns to see two men on the stage, belting out the lyrics and dancing suggestively. Stiles chuckles under his breath. He turns to tell Isaac, “We should go give ‘em a run for their money.”

Isaac shakes his head, “No way, man. You’re more than welcome to go embarrass yourself, but leave me out of it. I am _nowhere_ _near_ drunk enough for that shit.”

Stiles throws his head back with a laugh, but it doesn’t stop him from clapping along with everyone else in the bar when the song ends.

 _“Get up on stage, blondie!”_ There’s a chorus of cheers from the rowdy group as a petite blonde is gently forced up onto the stage. 

She gives as good as she gets, calling back, _“Oh, bite me, Argent!”_ For all her protests, her rendition of “One Way Or Another” is pretty damn good.

Stiles isn’t even a little surprised when the next pair of guys that take the stage choose “Total Eclipse of the Heart” as their selection. Is there anyone that hasn’t sung that particular song at least once during drunken karaoke? 

The two guys aren’t bad, though they’d sound a lot better if they weren’t singing at the top of their lungs. They start laughing as they turn to look deep into each other’s eyes, each clutching at the other’s shirt as they belt out the lyrics to the song.

By the end, Stiles finds himself singing along as he weaves through the crowd on his way to the men’s room. He snorts in laughter when he hears “Just a Friend” start up just as he makes his way through the line outside the restroom. 

There’s a lull in the music and Stiles wonders if the group left the bar when another familiar song filters through the speakers in the men’s room. A chorus of cheers from the patrons is followed by nearly everyone singing along to “Kiss Me I’m Shitfaced.”

Stiles washes his hands, drying them quickly to make room for the men waiting outside. He lingers by the curved bar to watch the group of men on stage, laughing when they start shaking their asses at the table where the rest of their group is sitting. 

Stiles is wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes when the song ends and the group starts chanting, _“Birthday girl, birthday girl, birthday girl!”_

_“Hell no, motherfuckers!”_

The bar erupts into laughter.

One of the men on stage calls out teasingly, _“If you don’t get that pretty little ass up here and pick your song, you’re stuck singing whatever I choose.”_

A chorus of _, “Do it, do it, do it!”_ starts just as the brunette that caught Stiles’ attention earlier is making her way to the stage. She flips her friends off as she contemplates her song selection.

The sound of rhythmic clapping and guitars fills the bar. It’s not a song that Stiles recognizes, but he’s clapping along with everyone else. The woman is still facing the back wall, one hand slapping against her hip as she starts to sing. 

Stiles isn’t sure if it’s her voice or the shaking of her hips as she sings, but he’s mesmerized. He takes a step closer to the stage but crouches to help one of the waitresses pick up something she dropped, so he misses when the woman turns around to sing at the table of her friends, _“Hallelujah, motherfuckers, take me to church.”_ By the time Stiles looks up again, the woman has put the microphone onto its stand and is shaking her head as she sings, dark brown hair tossing back and forth.

The group is cheering and whooping at just how animated the once reluctant singer has gotten. They’re clapping their hands up over their heads in time with music by the time the song starts to wind down. 

One of the men whistles shrilly as the brunette lifts her head to sing the final verse completely unaccompanied by music. 

Strands of hair are plastered to the sides of her face and her eyes are closed, but Stiles instantly recognizes her.

Pietra.

Stiles’ brain is still busy processing when Pietra opens her eyes, and he swears that she’s staring straight at him as she sings, “'And it’s alright whatever we do tonight. 'Cause if there’s a God, dammit, she won’t mind. If there’s a God, baby, she won’t mind.’”

The cheers and applause of Pietra’s friends snap Stiles out of his reverie. He wipes a hand over his mouth and backs up, not quite sure what to do. Luckily Isaac saves him.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, man?”

“We’re thinking of heading over to Casey’s, wanna come?”

Stiles nods, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, “Sure. How much do I owe for the tab?”

Isaac jerks a thumb back towards their table, “Mel’s figuring it out.”

Stiles smirks, “Figures.” He takes a step to follow Isaac, but a hand on his elbow stops him.

“Stiles?”

Pietra’s slightly breathless voice is like a kick to Stiles’ gut. He swallows hard, turning before he’s even decided just what he’s going to say, “Hey, hi! How’ve you been? You looked great up there, by the way.” Stiles shuts his eyes in embarrassment. He takes a deep breath and adds lamely, “Happy birthday?”

“I can’t believe I did that,” Pietra shakes her head, nose wrinkling cutely, “but thank you.”

“Shut up, you were great up there.” 

Stiles’ gaze flicks to the man who spoke. He’s taller than Pietra, with piercing eyes, and that cocky demeanor that screams _cop_. The man comes up behind Pietra to possessively wrap an arm around her shoulders, the bottom half of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his right sleeve when he does.

Pietra jabs an elbow into her friend’s ribs.

“So,” the man gives Stiles a curious smile, “who’s your friend?”

Pietra glares up at her friend, but grudgingly makes introductions, “Chris this is Stiles. Stiles this is my nosy partner, Chris.”

Stiles reaches out to shake Chris’ hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. Any friend of Pietra is a friend of mine. Wait,” there’s a moment of uncomfortable silence, then a mischievous little smile quirks on side of his mouth, “you aren’t Derek’s friend, are you, Stiles?”

Stiles blinks in surprise, “Uh, yeah?”

“My, my, my,” Chris smile widens, “you’re so much younger than I pictured. I mean, from the way Pietra spoke-”

Pietra slaps a hand over his mouth, “All right, you’re cut off. You’ve _clearly_ had too much to drink.” She gives Stiles a brief smile, “Nice seeing you again, Stiles.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, you too.” He returns back to his friends to settle up his portion of the bill, and he tries his hardest to put the exchange out of his mind. 

“Excuse me, Chris said to give you this.”

Stiles hands his money over to Isaac, and looks up to find the petite blonde from Pietra’s group of friends holding a napkin, “Uh, thanks, I guess?” He turns the napkin over to find a phone number scrawled on it. Stiles opens his mouth ask her a question, but the blonde is already headed towards the exit.

“Dude, did that hot chick just give you her number?”

Stiles gives Isaac a shrugs, “I dunno.”

“Soooo,” Isaac nudges him, “call and find out.”

“I, well,” Stiles shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“Do it,” Isaac leans in to say, “for me, man.”

Stiles laughs, “For you?” He rolls his eyes, even as he’s pulling his phone out to dial the number.

It rings once, twice, and a third time, clicking over to silence briefly as the call is answered.

_“Hello?”_

“Uh, hi,” Stiles bites his lip nervously, “I, hmm, wow, I can’t believe I just drunk dialed some random number.”

_“Stiles?”_

“Yeah?”

_“ **Are** you drunk?”_

“Not really, not anymore. More like pleasantly buzzed?”

_“Come outside.”_

Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it, “Uh, okay.” He points towards the exit, rolling his eyes again when Isaac waves him away. Stiles puts the phone back to his ear and asks, “Why am I coming outside?”

_“You’ll see.”_

“Ooo, such mystery, much intrigue.” The sultry laugh in his ear makes Stiles’ heart race. He pushes the door open to find Pietra standing outside, a small black phone pressed to her ear.

Pietra smiles, _“Hi.”_

Stiles returns the smile, “Hi, yourself, beautiful.”

Pietra ducks her head, _“Wow, you are quite the charmer.”_

Stiles closes the gap between them, whispering into the phone, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Pietra tosses her hair back, eyes flicking up to meet Stiles’ as she whispers back, _“Oh, yeah?”_

“Mmmm hmm.”

_“HEY, HALE! You coming?”_

Pietra turns to where her friends are standing, just in time to hear her partner Chris call out, _“Not yet, she’s not!”_ She covers her face with her hand, _“Oh my god.”_

The words are muttered softly, and it’s only because she still has the phone held tightly to her ear that Stiles hears them. Stiles isn’t sure what compels him to ask, “So, Hale, are you going…or coming?”

Pietra’s eyes shoot up to his, irises flaring blue for a second. She reaches up to curl a hand around Stiles’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “I’m really hoping for the latter.”

Stiles tugs Pietra against his body, chuckling into the kiss when he hears Pietra’s friends catcalling and telling them to get a room.

“Come home with me?”

Pietra swallows hard, her eyes locked on Stiles’ lips as he speaks. She kisses him again, pulling back to ask breathlessly, “What about Harley?”

“She’s with the babysitter.”

“For how long?”

Stiles moans at the tug of Pietra’s teeth on his bottom lip, “I, uh,” he laughs softly, kissing the smirk off her face. It’s another full minute or so before Stiles actually answers, “I’m free ‘til midnight.”

Pietra licks into Stiles’ mouth, savoring the taste of him. She shuts her eyes the second she feels them shift. A shudder goes through her body at the feel of Stiles’ hands on her hips. Pietra finally pulls away to whisper, “It’s nearly midnight.”

Stiles blinks his eyes open, a dazed look on his face. He looks down at his phone and sure enough, it’s just shy of half-past eleven.

Pietra gives him a final kiss, this one much more chaste than the others. She smooths her hands over her hair, and takes a step back, “You should go.”

“Nuh uh,” Stiles curls an arm around her waist, lifting his other hand up to crook a finger at her, “C’mere.” 

“But,” Pietra laughs at the predatory look on Stiles’ face, “you have to get home.” She tries to step back, but Stiles tugs her closer. Pietra bares her teeth and growls lowly, mock biting at Stiles’ crooked finger.

“Fuck,” Stiles groans, “that shouldn’t be hot, but it _so_ is.”

Pietra laughs, “Yeah?”

Stiles nods. “Look, at least let me drive you home.” He kisses her again, “You’re like ten minutes from here, and I’m like seven from your place so that gives us, a little over ten minutes.”

“Ten. Whole. Minutes?!” Pietra whispers at him, “What are we gonna do with those ten minutes?”

Stiles leans in to speak against the shell of Pietra’s ear, “I bet I can make you come at least once.”

Pietra looks up, eyes narrowed, “Pretty cocky, don’t you think?”

Stiles grins, singsonging under his breath, “'It’s not braggin’ if you back it up.’”

Pietra arches a brow, lips fighting a smile, “Prove it.”

Stiles takes her hand, and starts walking towards his car. He already has the keys out when they get there. Stiles hits the key fob to unlock the doors, “Get in and hold on.”

Pietra laughs, but gets into passenger seat. She’s still putting her seatbelt on when Stiles peels out of the parking spot, “Motherfucker!” The look Stiles gives Pietra is positively dirty, and it makes her squirm in her seat. Pietra is surprised that Stiles not only doesn’t get pulled over, but somehow manages to avoid every speed trap along the way.

In less than ten minutes, Stiles is pulling into Pietra’s driveway. He shuts the engine off, unfastening his seatbelt to lean over the center console.

Pietra’s heart is in her throat. She turns to face Stiles, scolding gently, “I should give you a ticket for speeding, mister.”

Stiles speaks against her lips, “Is that really what you want to do?”

Pietra shrugs, gasps softly when Stiles reaches for her seatbelt. A nervous laugh bubbles up before she can stop it.

“Hey,” Stiles cups her face, “you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Pietra nods, “I’m fine.”

Stiles tilts his head, eyes moving over her face, “You’re nervous.” 

Pietra ducks her head to kiss him, “I’m fine.” She smirks, “I remember you saying something about making me come?”

“Mmm hmm,” Stiles traces his fingers along the side of Pietra’s neck, smirking at the soft exhale of breath against the side of his face. “If I succeed,” his fingers trail down the deep vee of her blouse, “you’ll let me take you out a real date?”

“Tell you what,” Pietra wraps her fingers around Stiles’ wrist, “you even get me close, and I’ll fuck your brains out at the end of our date.” She brings Stiles fingers up, and sucks two of them into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she pulls them free, “Deal?”

Stiles huffs a breathless laugh, “Deal.” He reaches down to cup his hand over the front of her jeans, “Over or under?”

Pietra unbuttons her jeans, lifting her hips to shimmy the denim a bit lower, “I’m fine with either.”

“I think,” Stiles eases his hand between Pietra’s jeans and her panties, “I’ll try a bit of both.” He rubs his fingertips over the thin material, gently increasing the pressure when Pietra exhales hotly onto his lips. “If you change your mind, tell me to stop, okay?”

Pietra bites her bottom lip. She allows her eyes to shift, the tingle in her gums making her whine, “You better not.”

Stiles shifts his hand, working his middle finger lower, “Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”

Pietra gasps, her legs spreading wider. She clutches at Stiles’ face when his finger eases the thin fabric of her panties aside to glide over her clit. A shudder passes through her, _“Stiles.”_

“Shhh, I’m right here,” Stiles flexes his fingers, working her closer and closer, reveling in just how responsive she is. He twists his wrist, sliding his finger through her wetness, “I’ve got you.”

 _“F-fuck!”_ Pietra tosses her head back against the headrest, jaw dropping open as her canines lengthen. She sucks in a breath, urging him softly, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, _dontstopdontstop_!”

Stiles shifts closer, speaking into Pietra’s open mouth, “Not gonna stop, I promise.” He thumbs over her clit, smiling when her face twists.

Pietra whimpers low in her throat, one hand reaching down to wrap tight around Stiles’ wrist. Her eyes lock with Stiles’ and she pleads silently, _“Please.”_

“What, baby?”

She’s so far gone that her voice is nearly guttural when she hisses, “You know _what_.” 

Stiles rotates his wrist, groaning right along with Pietra when his finger easily sinks deep. He curls it, tapping it quickly inside her, “Come for me, she-wolf.”

Pietra arches against the seat, sucks in a breath, and goes stock-still. Just when Stiles is about to ask if she’s okay, she shrieks her climax. 

Stiles covers her mouth with his, swallowing the noise with a deep kiss. He works her through the orgasm, thumb slowing its movement as she continues to clench around his finger.

Pietra reciprocates by sucking on his tongue, hips rocking back and forth as she comes down. She tucks her face into Stiles’ neck, a breathless laugh wafting across his skin, “Holy shit!”

Stiles laughs, “That good, huh?”

“Mmm,” Pietra playfully bites at Stiles’ jaw, “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me too, trust me.” Stiles gently eases his hand free, hissing at the flex of his wrist, “Ow, what the hell?” He lifts his arm, twisting it first one way, then the other.

Pietra eyes widen at the five small pinpricks of blood dotting Stiles’ wrist, “I’m sorry! Oh my god, Stiles, I’m so sorry!” She ducks her head in embarrassment, hands scrabbling for the door handle.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles reaches over to put a hand over hers. He tucks his face into the side of her neck, “It’s fine, relax.” One of his hand rubs up and down her forearm, the other moves slides under her hair to expose the side of her face, “Look at me, please?”

Pietra turns, tears shining in her eyes. Her bottom lip is quivering when she speaks, “I’m so sorry. I-I-I normally have more control than that. I don’t know what happened, it’s never-” She takes a shuddering breath, swallowing hard before adding quietly, “I understand if you never want to see me again.”

“Pietra, shhhh,” Stiles presses his forehead to her temple, “I know you can hear it when I lie, so believe me when I say it’s fine, really.” The only response Stiles gets is another tiny whispered, _I’m sorry._ “I know you are, Pietra.” He sighs, “I wish I didn’t have to go.” Stiles lifts Pietra’s chin, “Let me walk you to the door?”

There’s quiet sniffling, then, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Stiles opens the door, pushing it open for Pietra, then makes his own way out and around the car to help her out. He waits for her to right her jeans before taking her hand. They walk up the steps in silence. Stiles stops in front of the door, turning to face Pietra. He reaches out to wipe her tears, smiling down at her, “Hey.”

Pietra’s brows lift in a silent question.

Stiles leans to brush their lips together, “Happy Birthday.”

Pietra smiles, “Thank you.” She returns the kiss with one of her own, “I really liked my gift.”

“Yeah?”

Pietra nods.

“Good.”

They stand there, in silence, for another few minutes. It’s Pietra that finally says, “I should go in. Derek’s pacing in the foyer.”

Stiles laughs, calling out loud enough for Derek to hear, “She’s fine, you creeper!”

Pietra grins, moving to the door at the sound of the deadbolts sliding free, “Goodnight, Stiles. Thanks for the ride home.” She turns at the last second, “Tell Harley I said hello?”

Stiles nods, “I will.” He waits for Pietra to go inside, waving one last time before jogging down the steps to his car. 

It’s a bit of a surprise that he makes it home with two minutes to spare. 

Stiles locks up and goes to check on Harley. He crosses the room to retrieve her stuffed turtle from where it’s fallen to the floor and tucks it under the blanket with her. After pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, Stiles heads to his own bedroom. He’s stripping out of his clothes so he can take a quick shower when his phone vibrates with a new text message. 

**_Message from Derek Hale: As her Alpha, I feel obligated to send you an ‘if you hurt her’ msg…_ **

Stiles chuckles under his breath, leaning a hip against the dresser as he taps out a reply. Another text comes in before he even manages to hit send. Stiles types another quick message.

**_Message from Derek Hale: But I won’t_ **

**_Message to Derek Hale: Duly noted._ **

**_Message to Derek Hale: No? How come?_ **

Stiles brings his cellphone into the master bath, setting it on the vanity while he turns on the shower. He’s back the instant his phone starts vibrating.

**_Message from Derek Hale: You’re both adults & she deserves something good in her life._ **

Stiles blinks at the message, stunned. He chews his lip, unsure if he should even respond, but in the end, he does.

**_Message to Derek Hale: Is that what I am?_ **

When he doesn’t immediately get a response, Stiles finishes getting undressed and hops in the shower. He hears the phone vibrate on the vanity a few minutes later, and while his inner child begs him to go look, Stiles waits until he’s done. He steps out of the stall, distractedly grabbing a towel off the shelf to dry his face and chest, pausing to wrap it around his waist before checking the message.

**_Message from Derek Hale: Guess we’ll see._ **

Stiles sets the phone down and leans forward onto his palms. He groans at the twist of nerves in his stomach. Stiles looks up and sarcastically tells his reflection, “That’s not ominous. Like, at all.” He snorts at the fact that he’s talking to himself. Stiles picks up his phone on the way out of the master bath, nearly dropping it when it vibrates in his hand. By the time Stiles can bring up the first message, there are two more.

**_Message from Unlisted: I can’t believe he did that._ **

**_Message from Unlisted: Hope he didn’t scare you away…  
_ **

**_Message from Unlisted: But I’d understand if he did_ **

Stiles composes a response four different times, deleting each one before he can bring himself to hit send. It’s the fifth message that he actually tries to send. He frowns down at his phone when his phone gives him an error message, the text apparently undeliverable. 

Stiles clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth, debating on simply calling Pietra. The urge is unbearably strong, but he forces himself to pull on a pair of sweats and crawl into bed before actually pulling up his Recent Calls list.

The line rings four times before it’s answered.

_“Hello?”_

“Did I wake you?”

_“No.”_

“Tried sending a reply text.”

_“Oh yeah?”_

Stiles _hmms_ softly, rolling onto his side in an effort to get comfortable, “Yeah, but I got an error message.”

 _“Mmm, sorry about that.”_ There’s a quiet rustle of sound then, _“What’d it say?”_

“You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pietra.” A sleepy grumble makes Stiles smile, “Unable to send. Please check the number and try again.”

Pietra laughs, _“Not the error message, smart ass.”_

“Smart ass, huh?” Stiles finds himself blushing for some reason. He blows out a breath, shutting his eyes before saying, “’I don’t scare easy.’”

Pietra sucks in a surprised breath. 

She’s quiet for so long that Stiles actually pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call hasn’t disconnected, “You still there?”

 _“Mm hmm.”_ Pietra asks quietly, _“It doesn’t worry you? Whatever Derek said.”_

“He actually didn’t say much, just that you deserve to be happy.” Stiles closes his eyes, murmuring softly, “He’s looking out for you, and I have to respect that.”

_“You don’t have to-”_

“But I do. He’s stuck in this weird place, y’know? He probably feels like has to choose between being your Alpha and simply being your nephew.”

Pietra _hmms_ softly, _“How’d you get so smart, little boy?”_

“Excuse you?” Stiles laughs, “Little boy?” He grins at Pietra’s laugh, “Need I remind you that this _little boy_ made you c-”

 _“Stiles,”_ Pietra’s quiet utterance of his name manages to sound like an admonishment.

Stiles presses his lips together. He listens to the quiet exhale of breaths from the other end of the line, eyes shutting as he whispers, “Yes, little wolf?”

_“How are you not afraid of me? Of us?”_

“My best friend’s a werewolf, his fiancé’s a kitsune.” Stiles rolls onto his back, “Another close friend of mine is a banshee, so yeah, not a lot frightens me.”

_“Is your friend a born wolf?”_

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles bites back a yawn, “bitten, why?” There’s silence from the other end of the line. “Pietra, I can feel you worrying about whether or not you should say what’s on your mind, and I know you’re scared, okay?”

_“I’m not, I just-”_

“I’m scared, too. Not of you, but of how you make me feel.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

Stiles growls under his breath, “Pietra, I swear to whatever deity you hold dear, if you say _‘I’m sorry’_ to me one more time…” 

Pietra growls back at him, the rumble of it crackling over the line.

Stiles takes a deep breath and soothes in a calmer voice, “There is nothing you need to be sorry for.”

_“But-”_

“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. I don’t know the details, and I won’t press for them, because that is _your_ _choice_ to decide how much you tell me, if anything, but,” Stiles swallows hard, hesitating slightly. “I’m going to tell you something and you can make of it what you will. 

“I care about you. A lot,” his face twists, “more than I’ve allowed myself to care about someone in a very long time. _That’s_ what scares me, Pietra. Not you, or the fact that you’re a werewolf, and least of all your nephew.” There’s a small hitch of breath on the other line, but Stiles barrels on before he loses his nerve, “When I tell you I’m scared, it’s because, even though I know you could rip my throat out with your bare hands, I _don’t care._ ”

_“I would never hurt you.”_

Stiles stares up at the ceiling in silence.

_“I could never hurt you.”_

Stiles hears Pietra swallow, hears her quick hitched breaths, and wonders if she’s crying.

_“It’s different for born wolves.”_

“What is?”

 _“Dating. Sex. Relationships.”_ Pietra presumably rolls over in bed, if the amount of rustling is anything to go by, _“I’m really good at no strings attached sex. It’s…been easier that way, ever since,”_ her voice trails off into silence, and she doesn’t complete the thought. _“I suck at letting anyone get close, but with you?” She laughs, “God, Stiles, with you, my wolf **wants**.”_

“What does she want?” Stiles wipes a hand over his mouth, “Tell me, and I’ll willingly give it.”

Pietra’s voice is unbelievably quiet. It’s almost as if she’s afraid to voice her thoughts, _“She wants for you to hold her down, Stiles. She **aches** for you to pin her down while you take your fill.”_

Stiles licks his lips. He has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak, and even then the word is thick on his tongue, “Yeah?”

_“Yes.”_

“My lovely she-wolf wants me to pin her down while I ravage her?”

**_“Yes.”_ **

“Tell me, Pietra…”

_“What do you want to know?”_

“Do you always make those lovely noises when you come?” Stiles clenches his hand into a fist on his belly, eyes squeezed tight at the tiny moans Pietra can’t quite silence.

_“Most of the time, yes.”_

“Do you have any idea how good it felt to have you clench around my finger like that? To feel just how wet you were?”

_“I’ve always been that way.”_

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

_“Stiles!”_

Stiles laughs, “What? It’s the truth. I’m gonna guess, and mind you, this is based solely on our time in the car, that you’re gonna gush all over my face when I eat you out.” He unclenches his fist to tease fingertips along the waistband of his sweatpants, “Am I right? Are you a squirter, Pietra?”

 _“Oh my-”_ the rest of Pietra’s sentence is muffled, almost as if she pressed her face into a pillow. Her next words are perfectly clear, but oh so shy, “ _I wouldn’t know, it’s never happened. I’ve heard it’s a whole body experience.”_

“It can be.”

_“Will you show me?”_

Stiles grins, a teasing edge creeping into his voice, “You want me to show you?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Tell me what you want.”

 _“I want your face between my legs,”_ Pietra sucks in a shaky breath, _“I want to grind against your mouth until I can’t take it anymore.”_ Her voice is quivering when she speaks again, _“I want to come with your tongue buried deep in my pussy, then while I’m still coming, I want you to flip me over, and, and, and-”_

“And what? What do you want me to do then?”

Pietra growls softly, _“Then I want you to shove your cock inside me and fuck me ‘til I howl.”_

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, muttering quietly, “Oh, fuck!”

A throaty laugh filters through the line, _“Did I make you come, Stiles?”_

“Just about, you little tease.”

_“It’s only teasing if I don’t follow through.”_

Stiles can hear the smile in her voice, “Good to know.”

_“Can I ask you something?”_

“Anything.”

_“Did you jerk off when you got home?”_

Stiles rolls over, rubbing his face on his pillow, “No. I thought about it, though.”

_“You did?”_

“Mmm hmm.”

_“What stopped you?”_

“Your boner-killer nephew.”

Pietra laughs, _“Aww, I thought you didn’t scare easily?”_

“I don’t, but I was _kinda_ hoping it was _you_ texting, so forgive me if the mood was spoiled by seeing it was the wrong Hale.”

_“You could always do it now.”_

“Do what?” Stiles’ eyebrows lift, “Jerk off while I’m on the phone with you?”

_“Mmm hmm.”_

Stiles gives it serious thought, “I _could_. If I had the proper,” he sighs dramatically, “motivation.”

_“Stiles.”_

“Yes?”

 _“Stiles,”_ there’s an undeniably teasing note to the whine of Pietra’s voice, _“I wanna hear you come for me. Please?”_

Stiles laughs, “That’s _so_ not fair. I can hear you pouting from here.” He slips a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers curling around himself and squeezing gently. A bitten-off moan makes it past his lips.

_“Are you touching yourself?”_

Stiles’ strokes are slow, teasing, “Uh huh.”

_“Stiles?”_

“Y-yeah?” Stiles jerks when his cell phone chirps in his ear. He pulls it away from his ear and accepts the video call, smiling when Pietra’s sleepy face shows up, “Hey, beautiful.”

Pietra wrinkles her nose cutely, turning away from the screen, _“Stop! Or I won’t be able to give you your surprise.”_

Stiles adjusts the volume on the call, “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

_“Are you still touching yourself?”_

Stiles tilts the phone so Pietra can see the movement of his hand beneath the faded material of his sweatpants, “Yeah.”

Pietra _hmms_ appreciatively, _“Good boy.”_

“You _know_ ,” Stiles lifts the phone to scold, “that really shouldn’t do what it’s doing to me.”

Pietra arches a brow, the tip of her tongue tracing along her upper lip as she teases, _“Did my sweet Stiles get harder when I called him a good boy?”_

Stiles back arches off the bed.

_“Mmm, he did.”_

Stiles bites his bottom lip.

 _“Stiles?”_ Pietra coos, _“Stiles, look at me.”_

Stiles opens his eyes; he can’t even remember closing them. He shifts the phone so he can see the screen.

_“There you are.”_

The tone in her voice makes Stiles’ toes curl, “Here I am.”

_“You ready for your surprise?”_

Stiles nods, his answer sticking in his throat when Pietra shifts the phone so he can watch her easing the neck of her camisole lower to reveal her breasts to the camera. Stiles presses his heels into the mattress, small uncontrollable moans slipping past his slack lips.

Pietra’s hand cups under her breast, fingertips pinching then tugging on her nipple. She shifts the angle and gives Stiles a view of her whole body, the tiny panties hiding very little from his eyes.

The phone shifts again and Stiles pleads, “N-no, wait, wait-”

 _“What, Stiles?”_ Pietra appears on the screen, a smirk on her lips. She tilts her head, near-perfectly matching his own words from earlier, _“What is it, baby?”_

Stiles’ hips rock up into his fist, and he spits Pietra’s earlier words back at her, “You know what!”

Pietra sits up in bed, _“Tsk, don’t be like that.”_ She tosses the phone onto the bed, and for a second the only thing visible is the ceiling above her bed, until she reappears, grinning down at Stiles

“Oh, my fuck!” Stiles nearly drops the phone when she repositions herself over the cell phone, fingers rubbing over herself.

_“Come for me, Stiles.”_

Stiles’ mouth drops open and in the next instant, he’s coming, thick spurts covering his fist. It takes him a few minutes to catch his breath and when he does, Stiles realizes he’s not holding his cell phone. He picks it up and is surprised to see that Pietra hasn’t hung up.

_“Welcome back.”_

“Mmm,” Stiles’ eyes drift shut, a dopey grin on his lips, “thank you.”

_“I’m going to guess you needed that?”_

Stiles nods, laughing throatily, “Oh yeah.”

_“I’m glad I could help.”_

Stiles takes a breath, sighing happily, “Helpful wolf is helpful.”

Pietra laughs, _“Good night, Stiles.”_

“G’night, love.”

Pietra bites her lip, ending the video call. She presses her face into the pillow, her cheeks heating in a full-out blush, surprised that Stiles calling her ‘love,’ even if it was in his post-orgasmic haze, is able to make her heart race.

* * *

Harley looks over from where she’s busy studying the menu board, “Daddy, can we get a coffee and bagel for Mr. Bob?”

Stiles smiles at his daughter, tiredly running a hand over his hair, “Sure. You remember which kind he likes?”

Harley nods as she rushes forward to order. She goes onto her tiptoes and tells the cashier, “A small hot chocolate for Harley, a large coffee and bagel, the everything one, for Mr. Bob, and a super-spresso coffee for my daddy, please.”

The cashier laughs as she takes the order, “Hot chocolate for Harley, large coffee for Mr. Bob, and a large coffee with extra shots for Daddy.” She looks up to wink at Stiles as she slides the cups down the line. “Your total is $14.63.”

“Daddy,” Harley turns to look up at him, “pay the nice lady.” She grins at him mischievously, then adds, “Please.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, _please_.” Stiles snorts as he hands over his debit card. He enters his PIN number, and smiles at the cashier as he hoists his daughter up to set her on a stool so she can watch the baristas work. Stiles wanders over to the bulletin board, idly looking over the announcements tacked to the large surface. He reaches up to take one for a children’s fair happening the following weekend.

“A little young to be a father aren’t you?”

Stiles turns at the vaguely familiar voice. He squints, trying to recall the man’s first name, “I fail to see how that is any of your business, _Officer_.” Stiles makes to move around the man, stopping when he has the audacity to wrap a hand around Stiles’ upper arm. Stiles turns to glare, and in that moment, he can’t find it in himself to care one bit who the man is, “I suggest you take your hand off me.”

“Or you’ll do what exactly?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

The man laughs softly, his hand eases its grip on Stiles’ arm, “No wonder Pete likes you. You’re just her type, if a li’l young.”

Stiles jerks out of his grip. He steps into the other man’s personal space, “Is this where you warn me away from your partner? Where you threaten to break my kneecaps if I hurt her?”

“Do I need to?”

_“Daddy!”_

Stiles turns to look at Harley, “Be right there, Monkey.” He turns back to whisper hotly at the man whose name he’s finally remembered. “I’m fairly certain that Pietra can make her own decisions about things that concern her, especially her love life. You’d do well to remember that.”

Chris smirks, “I’m just looking out for her best interests. It would be a shame for her to get involved with someone who has a criminal record, don’t you think?”

Stiles clenches his hands into fists to keep from decking the man in front of him, “If your investigative skills were worthy of that gold shield, you’d know that I don’t _have_ a criminal record. Those bogus charges were dropped, and my record cleared, so whatever you think you know,” Stiles looks Chris up and down in contempt, “is bullshit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a daughter to raise, _Officer_ Argent.” With that, Stiles turns his back on Chris.

Harley holds up her arms out for Stiles to lower her to the ground.

“Ready to go?” At Harley’s nod, Stiles hands her the small hot chocolate, and the bag containing the bagel, “Here you go, M’lady.”

Harley grins as she makes her way to the small self-serve area.

Stiles watches her carefully set her hot chocolate down so she can put two cream cheese packets, four sugars, two creamers, a knife, a coffee stirrer, and several napkins into the bag. He smiles as she folds the bag top down.

“Daddy, will you carry my hot chocolate?”

“You wanna give Mr. Bob his coffee and bagel?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.” Stiles hands her the large coffee, “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Stiles picks up Harley’s hot chocolate, and heads towards the exit, “What do you say we go make Mr. Bob’s day, huh?”

Harley nods, waiting patiently for Stiles to push the door open for her. She picks her way through the crowd on the sidewalk, pausing briefly to make sure that Stiles is behind her. When she’s sure he’s following, Harley calls into the entryway of the vacant storefront near the end of the block, “Wakey wakey, Mr. Bob! Daddy and I brought you breakfast!”

Stiles smiles at the homeless man that peers out from beneath the cardboard box covering him. “Morning, Bob.”

Bob sits up, a smile lighting up his face, “G’morning, Mr. Stiles, and Miss Harley! It’s always nice to see you!”

Harley giggles, holding out the coffee cup and paper bag.

“Thank you both. I really appreciate it.” Bob peeks into the bag, his eyes misting slightly, “You really are a special girl, ya’know?”

“Daddy says that all the time,” Harley’s nose scrunches up cutely, “but I just me.” She shrugs and skips back to Stiles side, one hand reaching for her cup, the other slipping into one of Stiles’ belt loops.

Bob smiles, “That’s all we can be, huh?” He nods to Stiles, “Thank you. God bless you, both.”

Harley smiles, “Bye, Mr. Bob! See you next time!”

“Bye, bye, Miss Harley, you have a nice day.”

“You too!”

Stiles wave to Bob, “Have a nice day.” He holds his free hand down to Harley, “Ready to go see the otters, Peanut?”

“Yes!!!” Harley bounces in place, “And the fruit bats!”

Stiles laughs, “Yes, and the fruit bats. We gotta hurry though, if you want to see them get breakfast.” He points to the crosswalk button, “You gonna press that?”

Harley steps forward to press it, coming back to grab Stiles’ free hand. She looks up at him, “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“How come you were mad at that man in the store?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. He struggles with how to answer, luckily the crosswalk signal changes, and he’s able to forestall a response until they are safely across the street. “That man said some not so nice things about daddy, that’s all, baby.”

“Oh.” Harley’s face twists in thought, “He was mean?”

“Li’l bit, yeah, but it’s okay, because your daddy is awesome and managed to say his piece without being mean back.”

“Good.” Harley nods, “I think that deserves a scoop of ice cream.”

Stiles laughs, “Oh, you do?” He ducks to press a sloppy kiss to Harley’s forehead, “You’re too good to me, kiddo.”

Harley giggles, “Yeah.” She tugs on Stiles hand as they near the zoo’s entrance, her face lighting up when she realizes one of the zookeepers has a macaw on display in the main courtyard. “Daddy, daddy!! Can I go see the pretty bird?”

Stiles checks with the employee in the ticket booth, and at their nod, says, “Yes, just be careful, Harls.”

“I will!” Harley finishes her hot chocolate, and after tossing the empty cup in a trashcan, she rushes over towards the crowd surrounding the zookeeper.

It doesn’t take long for Harley to get frustrated with not being able to see through the crowd, and Stiles arrives just in time to scoop her up before she has a meltdown. “Do you know what kind of bird that is, Pickle?”

“A McCall!”

Stiles laughs, “It’s actually a mac _aw_. Mc _Call_ is your uncle Scott.” He smiles at the zookeeper as she tells the crowd a little bit about the bird on the perch beside her. As soon as she’s done, Stiles presses a kiss to Harley’s ear, “ready to go see the fruit bats?”

Harley nods, “Then the otters.”

“Yes ma’am, of course.”

By the end of their trip through the zoo, Stiles is just as tired as, if not more than, Harley. He’s dozing on the bus ride home, Harley curled up in his lap, when his cell phone buzzes. Stiles blinks his eyes heavily as he scrolls to his texts.

**_Message from Pietra: Having pool party. IK it’s last min but stop by?_ **

Stiles returns to the main screen without answering. A few minutes pass, and then the phone is buzzing once more.

**_Message from Derek Hale: JIC Aunt Pete chickens out, we’re having a pool party & you’re BOTH invited._ **

Against his better judgement, Stiles finds himself responding.

**_Message to Pietra; Derek Hale: No can do, munchkin & I are wiped after the zoo. Some other time._ **

**_Message from Pietra: Oh, ok. Hope she didn’t wear you out too bad._ **

**_Message from Derek Hale: Sure thing, man. Go home and rest. See ya, Monday._ **

Stiles puts his phone on silent, slipping it into his pocket without responding to either text. He rests his cheek on Harley’s head, mind wandering. The rest of the trip home passes in a blur, and before Stiles knows it, he’s climbing the stairs to their apartment building. He goes to put Harley down for a nap, but when she whines for him to stay, Stiles decides to carry her to his own bed and curl up next to her to take a nap as well.

* * *

“Heads up, Hale!”

Pietra looks up from where she’s idly spinning a pen between her fingers, just in time to see Chris toss a breakfast burrito in her direction. She drops the pen, only to just barely catch the paper-wrapped item. Pietra bares her teeth at her partner, “You’re an ass.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chris shrugs with a grin, “As if you didn’t already know.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietra carefully unwraps her burrito and takes a bite. She slouches in her chair as she eats, each mouthful as tasteless as the last. Finally unable to take another bite, Pietra tosses the remains of her breakfast in the trash.

“What’s the matter, Pete, burrito not to your liking?” Chris leans against the corner of her desk, “Or something else?”

Pietra wipes at her mouth, “Just not hungry, I guess.” She picks up the glass on her desk, draining the remaining water out of it before fishing an ice cube out to pop into her mouth. It takes her a minute to realize that Chris is watching her with a curious look on his face. Pietra squints up at him, teeth crunching the ice into oblivion, “What?”

“You’re different; less you, more,” Chris shakes his head, “I don’t know. Ever since you started dating that kid, you-”

“He’s not a kid!” Pietra sits up and mutters under her breath, “And for your information, I’m not dating him. I don’t think there was ever a chance of that.”

Chris frowns, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I haven’t seen or heard from him in a few weeks.” 

“I’m sorry, Pete. If he’s too stupid to realize how great you are, then it’s his loss.”

“Whatever.” Pietra sits up, “It is what it is.” She gazes up at her partner, eyes narrowing at the faint scent of guilt wafting off of him, “Chris…what did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!”

Pietra’s eyes widen at the obvious hitch in Chris’ heartbeat. “You liar!” She stands up and fists a hand in his shirt, lifting him up off the corner of her desk to growl in his face, “What did you do!?”

“Nothing! I swear!”

Quiet descends in the bullpen, several uniformed officers stand, hands on their weapons.

Chris makes eye contact with one of the many officers, and gives him a minute shake of the head, “Look, Pete, I didn’t mean anything by it, okay? I ran into your little boy toy, and I couldn’t help myself. All I did was tease him a bit. How was I supposed to know that he couldn’t take a joke?”

“You had no right to!” Pietra lifts Chris up onto his toes, then casually shoves him away from her into the gathered crowd. She stalks out of the bullpen without another word.

“So you didn’t bother to ask him what he said?”

Pietra looks over at her nephew, “No.”

Derek crosses the kitchen to nudge Pietra’s shoulder. He wraps an arm around her, rubbing at her back when she moves into the embrace. “That’s not like you, Pete.”

“I know. I just,” Pietra rubs her face against Derek’s throat, “I guess I didn’t want to know just what scared Stiles away.”

“Look,” Derek sighs, “Chris is a jerk. I know you know that. Hell, you’ve even known since before he was your partner. But you also know that whatever idiotic thing he said to Stiles was probably his own misguided overprotectiveness.”

Pietra whines in her throat, “I know, okay?”

Derek tightens his arms around her briefly, then steps back. He lifts Pietra’s chin to look into her eyes. “You really like him, huh?”

Initially, all Pietra does is nod, but then she whispers, “I really do.”

“You should probably tell him. I think you’d be surprised by what he says.”

“I’ve tried. I called, left voicemails, texted him, I even stopped by his apartment on the way home after my shift.”

“His apartment?” Derek quirks a brow, “He gave you his address?”

“Well, no.”

Derek laughs, “You’re such a cop.”

Pietra gives him a bland look.

“Look, I think you should call him again.” 

“What if he doesn’t answer?”

“Look, I happen to know for a fact that Stiles has the night to himself.” Derek’s face twists as he considers his next words, “Harley’s spending time with her grandparents; her mom’s parents.”

“Oh.” Pietra looks up, “And you think I should go over _tonight_ of all nights?”

Derek mulls the question over a bit, finally nodding, “Yes.” He smirks, “I’m sure you can come up with some way to distract him.” Derek laughs at the blush that flares over Pietra’s cheeks. “Just do me a favor, will you?”

“What’s that?”

“Change out of your cop clothes into something more…you.”

Pietra squints at her nephew, “I’m not sure what you mean by that. Nor am I sure if I should be insulted or not.”

Derek tilts his head to the side, “Your cop attire is sadly lacking in femininity, and while I happen to know that Stiles doesn’t mind, it’s not you. It’s who you are when you’re at work, and I happen to think Stiles would love to spend time with the _real_ _you_.”

“So,” Pietra stares down at her slacks, “no gun, huh?”

Derek laughs, “Definitely no gun.” He turns Pietra until she’s facing the hallway leading to her bedroom, and gives her a gentle push, “Pick something girly, he’ll appreciate that.”

Pietra glares over her shoulder, “Part of me is offended at that.”

“Mmmm hmm, I know.” Derek waves a hand at her, “And yet, another part of you already has an outfit in mind?”

“Ha!” Pietra snickers, “You know me so well.”

* * *

Stiles is halfway through his latest rewatch of _Bring It On_ when there’s a knock on his front door. He shut his laptop, and sets it on the coffee table. Stiles calls out as he nears the door, “Who is it?

“It’s Pietra.”

Stiles freezes, hand extended towards the deadbolt. He peers through the peephole, and sure enough, there’s Pietra, standing in the hallway outside his apartment. “What do you want?”

Pietra looks up, staring directing at the peephole, “I want to talk. Please, Stiles.” She lifts a hand to push at the hair obscuring her face, “Please let me in?”

Stiles knows he shouldn’t. He knows that letting Pietra in has the potential to go all sorts of wrong. Stiles knows this. He knows this, and in that moment, as he reaches to unlock his front door, Stiles doesn’t care.

“What do you want, Pete?”

“Just what I said,” Pietra looks up at him, “to talk.”

“To talk. Huh.” Stiles gives her an incredulous look. He braces his right hand against the doorjamb, “what could we possibly have to talk about?”

“I, well,” Pietra takes a step forward, stopping only when Stiles doesn’t move from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Stiles tilts his head, staring at Pietra long enough to watch the expression on her face fade from hopeful to resigned. The second she ducks her head and turns away, Stiles feels like a complete and utter asshole. “Wait.” He pushes the door open a bit further, “Pietra, wait, come inside.” 

Pietra casts a look over her shoulder, “it’s okay, Stiles, I understand.” She gives him a sad smile, “it was fun while it lasted.”

“Piet-” Stiles follows her down the hall. He takes hold of her hand, “Pietra, stop, will you?”

“What?” Pietra gently pulls her hand free as she continues down the hall, “look, I get it, okay? We’re too different, we have nothing in common. I’m far too old for you, and-”

Stiles clenches his jaw, “Shut up.”

Pietra freezes, turning back to glare menacingly, her eyes flaring bright, “Ex- _cuse_ me?”

“You heard me.” Stiles stalks after her, his hands lifting to frame Pietra’s face, “I said shut up.”

Before Pietra has a chance to speak Stiles is kissing her, and while knows she should pull away, Pietra simply can’t bring herself to do it. She reaches up to wrap her arms around Stiles’ neck instead.

Stiles moans at the drag of teeth over his bottom lip. He pulls back with a breathless laugh, scolding under his breath, “oh my god, woman, you can’t do that!”

Pietra licks her lips, “why not?”

“Because,” Stiles tilts his head down to press a brief kiss to Pietra’s lips, “we’re in the hallway, and my next door neighbor is a nosy little busybody.”

“Oh yeah?”

Stiles nods silently, his lips quirking in a grin, “I used to think she had a bit of a crush on me.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs, “it was a few months before I realized she was sizing me up for her granddaughter.” He wheezes a laugh at the half-hearted punch Pietra aims at his gut. “Hey now!” Stiles catches both of Pietra’s wrists in his hands, “careful with the human.”

Pietra twists her arms, testing the grip on her wrists. She smirks, cooing almost silently, _‘I promise to be gentle,’_ only seconds before craning up to flick her tongue over the shell of Stiles’ ear, “if you promise to be anything but.”

Stiles swallows hard.

“Will you let me come inside, Stiles?”

Stiles groans softly, “baby, I’ll let you come _wherever_ you want.”

Pietra lifts a brow, “good to know.” She steps forward, pressing right up against Stiles’ chest. “We should probably go inside first though.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles smooths his hands up Pietra’s bare arms, thoroughly enjoying the way she shivers at his touch, “why’s that?”

“Well,” Pietra’s eyes flare bright, “that neighbor you mentioned? She’s watching us through the peephole on her door.”

Stiles’ head whips around to look at the door in question. His mouth drops open at Pietra’s barely-suppressed giggle. He ducks his head in embarrassment, “she’s not watching is she?” 

Pietra shakes her head, a teasing little grin curling her kiss-swollen lips, “no, she’s not.”

“You,” Stiles shakes a finger at her, “are a very bad girl.”

“Hmmm,” Pietra licks the tip of Stiles’ finger, “would you like me to show you just _how_ bad I can be?”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Stiles’ eyes flutter shut, “you have no idea.”

Pietra runs a hand up the center of Stiles’ chest, “take me inside?” 

Stiles nods. “You have to promise me something, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t judge me for,” he steps through his front door to wave a hand at the state of his living room, “I’m a single dad with very little time to myself.”

Pietra steps into the apartment, eyes flicking from the half-eaten bag of Cheetos on the coffee table, to the empty packets of beef jerky strewn on the floor next to the couch. Her lips twist thoughtfully, “so this is what you do on your nights alone?”

Stiles rushes forward to gather up the trash, “um…” He looks around self-consciously, before finally admitting quietly, “yeah.” With a last look at Pietra, he bolts to the kitchen. Stiles lingers at the sink after washing his hands.

_What are you doing? You have no idea how to make a woman happy, much less a woman like **that**._

Stiles rubs a hand over his face. The voice in his head is a cruel bastard, he knows this.

_“Stiles?”_

“Yeah?”

_“Are you going to hide in the kitchen all night?”_

Stiles takes a deep breath, “No, of course not! I’ll be right there. You want anything? A snack, maybe something to drink?” He winces.

_Smooth, Stilinski._

_“I’ll take a 5′10″ twenty-something with a penchant for chewing on his pen caps. And can you make him the hot, single dad version?”_

Stiles startles when Pietra steps up behind him. 

“Preferably with the adorable daughter upgrade?”

“That’s a uh-hmm,” Stiles clears his throat, “fairly specific order there, missy.”

Pietra shrugs, “I have specific tastes.” She hooks fingers through Stiles’ belt loops.

“Oh geez.”

Pietra licks her lips, head tilting back, “what the matter, Stiles?”

“Nothing! It’s just, I uh,” Stiles blows out a nervous breath. “It’s been a while since I’ve, you know…”

“Had sex?”

The only answer Stiles gives is a nod.

“I seem to recall you fingering me in the front seat of your car, Stiles.” Pietra tilts her head to kiss the underside of his chin, “and later we had a rather bracing conversation where you saw me pretty much naked.”

“Yeah,” Stiles turns to kiss the edge of Pietra’s jaw. He cups her cheek, dipping to take her lips in a kiss, “you know what I mean.”

“Mmm,” Pietra traces her fingertips along Stiles’ waist, “how long?”

Stiles brain short circuits at the feel of Pietra thumbing open the button of his jeans. He sucks in a breath at the warmth of her palm as it pushes the hem of his t-shirt up.

“Days?” Pietra doesn’t stop until the fabric’s rucked up to Stiles’ armpits, “weeks?” She guides Stiles’ hands to hold the t-shirt in place before easing to her knees, “months?” Pietra kisses along Stiles’ lower abdomen, “it couldn’t possibly be longer, could it?”

Stiles gasps, _“ohmyfuckinggod.”_

Pietra smiles against his skin, tongue darting out for a quick lick just to see the muscles tighten in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She eases the zipper down slowly, and glances up.

A shudder goes through Stiles, and he asks breathlessly, “how are you even real?” Stiles reaches down to trace fingers along Pietra’s jawline, swallowing hard when she sucks his thumb into her mouth. “C’mere.”

Pietra stands, and her eyes drift shut when Stiles kisses her. It’s been a long time since anyone has spent this much time simply _kissing_ her. She feels the heat of Stiles’ skin seconds before his hand cups the side of her neck, and Pietra can’t help but flinch as she pulls back from the kiss.

Stiles backs up, both hands out to his sides, “Sorry, I should know better.” He clears his throat, “You’d think after spending so much time with werewolves I would have learned what it’s okay to touch, and what isn’t. I’ve gotten so used to dealing with the members of my own rather unorthodox pack that I forget it’s different for born wolves.”

“Not as much as you’d expect, but yes, to some degree.” Pietra takes Stiles’ hand, “in some respects we’re just like humans. Some of us are exceedingly tactile, while others,” she guides Stiles’ hand to her shoulder. Pietra takes a deep breath, her face twitching minutely as she drapes his fingers carefully.

“Others…?” Stiles lifts his hand until his fingertips are only just barely skimming her shoulder, and down the line of her collarbone.

“Hmm?”

“You said, ‘some of us are exceedingly tactile, while others,’ but then you stopped. What were you going to say?” Stiles ghosts his fingers back toward the ball of Pietra’s shoulder and presses a kiss to the skin.

Pietra sucks in a harsh breath at the feel of Stiles’ lips, “Others find it very hard to let their guard down.”

“Tell me something,” Stiles gives Pietra’s skin a teasing lick, “Which group are you in?”

A growl builds in Pietra’s chest, “both.” Her eyes flash, and she whines under her breath, “ _Stiles_.”

Stiles wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, “tell me what you want.”

Pietra blinks up at him, eyes glowing bright, “I want _you_.”

“Sweetheart,” Stiles dips his head so he can whisper on her lips, “I’m right here.” He moans into the frantic kiss Pietra gives him. Stiles’ arms tighten around Pietra’s waist and he easily lifts her off the ground when one of her legs hitches up to curl around his hip.

“Show-off.” 

Stiles smirks up at Pietra, “How am I a show-off?”

“Picking me up like that.”

The answer surprises a laugh out of Stiles, “that’s not showing off.” Stiles makes a thoughtful noise, “showing off would be me carrying you out of the kitchen and into the living room.”

Pietra looks around, “like you’re doing now?”

Stiles laughs as he carefully eases down onto the couch, “exactly.” He smooths his hands up Pietra’s nearly bare back. “Are you impressed?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Pietra grins wickedly as she reaches behind her neck to the halter neckline of [her dress](https://www.lulus.com/products/i-m-smitten-blue-chambray-halter-dress/323852.html?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=PLA%20-%20Dresses&utm_term=%7Bproductid%7D&utm_content=12038103563_72973161683&gclid=CjwKCAjw0qLOBRBUEiwAMG5xMGK54j3X_QZs_I5gBPbdN8py2780GnTypVM-R_OMpYAolUz-DdxamhoCMvcQAvD_BwE), “so impressed that my clothes are literally falling off.”

Stiles swallows thickly, “I see that.” His eyes take in the expanse of naked flesh in front of him. He’s seen Pietra topless before, during the video call, but seeing it in person is an entirely different experience. His fingers drag down the center of Pietra’s chest, eyes flicking up at her quick intake of breath, “you okay?”

Pietra nods.

“You’ll let me know if that changes?”

“I will.” Pietra shifts in his lap, “now, touch me, please?”

Stiles shifts his hand to cup Pietra’s breast, “like this?” He thumbs over her nipple and smiles into the kiss he gets in return.

Pietra rocks forward, hands clutching at Stiles’ face as he twists her nipple first one way and then the other. She whimpers when his other hand moves from her waist, only to slip underneath the hem of her dress. Pietra is trembling, and she doesn’t even realize it. 

“You’re shaking.”

Stiles’ voice grounds her, and Pietra exhales against his throat, a breathy ‘ _Stiles’_ escaping her before she can stop it.

“Shhh, I’m right here.”

“I know.” Pietra moans, throwing her head back at the feel of Stiles mouthing down her chest. She isn’t cognizant of the fact that she’s grinding in Stiles’ lap until his hips lift to meet hers. Pietra squeezes her eyes shut, “I don’t want to come.”

Stiles whispers in her ear, “you don’t want to come?”

Pietra shakes her head.

“Why not?” Stiles’ fingers toy with the waistband of Pietra’s panties, “I _want_ you to come for me.”

“I-” Pietra whines softly, “I don’t want to come _yet_.”

“Mmm,” Stiles gives her a lazy smile, “you want to know the great thing about women?” He waits until Pietra looks at him before continuing, “they have the ability to have _multiple_ orgasms.”

Pietra’s mouth drops open at Stiles’ thumb slipping beneath the thin fabric of her underwear. She tenses in anticipation of that first glide of his thumb over her clit. Pietra stares down at Stiles through the curtain of her hair, eyes flickering between human and wolf.

Stiles cautiously reaches up with both hands as if to gently cup her face, stopping just shy of touching her.

Pietra skims her hands down Stiles’ face, fingers trailing from his throat to his shoulders. She teases her fingertips beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt to trace the start of a barely visible scar on his left bicep. Pietra follows the faint line down until it meets the curve of his of the elbow, and then further over the cord of muscles in his forearm. She circles his wrists, turning to rub her face against first one palm, then the other.

“Pietra,” Stiles cups her face, “we can stop if you want.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m,” Pietra swallows hard. Her face twists in a grimace before she admits quietly, “I’m afraid of hurting you.”

“Oh.” Stiles sits forward, “you won’t hurt me. You said so yourself remember?”

Doubt scratches at the back of Pietra’s mind, but when Stiles assures her that she won’t, her eyes widen at the fact that his heartbeat remains even, with absolutely no evidence of a lie. “You really believe that.”

Stiles nods, “I do.”

Pietra undulates her hips, “and you’d stop, even though I can tell you _really_ don’t want to?”

Stiles’ jaw clenches and his eyes roll back, but he nods. “If you want or need to,” he presses a chaste kiss to her lips, “all you have to do is say the word.”

Pietra’s lips move silently around Stiles’ words. _“Say the word.”_ She reaches between their bodies to grip the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt, “I have two words for you.”

“Oh yeah? What two-” 

The question is interrupted by Pietra tugging Stiles’ shirt up over his head. She grins down at him as she tosses the tee over her shoulder, “Fuck me.”

Stiles blinks in surprise. It takes him a split second to react, but when he does, it’s with an eager, _“Yes, ma’am!”_

Pietra laughs. She _tsks_ at him, scolding gently, “don’t call me ‘ma’am.’”

“Yes m-” Stiles presses his lips together and promises, “won’t ever happen again.”

It’s ridiculous the amount of time they spend kissing on the couch, simply grinding against each other. They pull apart, only to smile at each other before diving right back into another kiss. The cycle repeating itself until they’re both breathless.

Stiles’ hands fist in Pietra’s hair, and his breath hitches at the feel of her teeth dragging over his neck, “holy _fuck_!”

Pietra’s throaty laugh is muffled against his skin. Her hand works into the open vee of Stiles’ jeans. “You should really take these off.”

“What?” Stiles’ brain takes a second to register the words, “oh yeah.” He rolls his hips upwards, using one hand to shove at the waistband of his jeans.

“Want some help?”

Stiles quirks a brow, “helpful wolf is helpful?”

Pietra’s lips curl in a lecherous grin, “more like horny wolf is horny.”

Stiles laughs, eyes squinting shut. “It’s been a long time since someone made me laugh during sex.”

“Mmm, in that case,” Pietra licks her lips, “you’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Probably. Then again it’s been-” the rest of Stiles’ words die in his throat when Pietra’s hand curls around him.

“Breathe, Stiles.” Pietra coaxes a series of moans out of him with each twist of her wrist. She leans to lick at his parted lips, “you’re going to pass out if you don’t breath, baby.”

Stiles nods at her words and sucks in a harsh breath.

“Good boy.” Pietra grins at Stiles’ whine. “Well, well, well, my sweet boy _does_ get harder when I call him that.” She strokes faster, “I can’t wait to have your cock filling me up, Stiles.” Pietra moans into his open mouth as she levers up to rub against him, “It’s going to feel so good to have you split me open.”

Stiles’ hands spasm on Pietra’s hips, “wait, we can’t do this.” He swallows thickly, “I don’t have any condoms.”

Pietra kisses him silent, “it’s fine.” She smiles, “werewolf remember?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “ _female_ werewolf.”

It takes Pietra a few seconds to understand, “oh.” Pietra gives him another kiss, “that’s not something you need to worry about either.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles pulls back from the kiss, “how do you figure?”

“That’s not something I can, you know, do.”

“But you,” Stiles blinks in confusion, “I thought-”

Pietra shrugs. She shifts out of Stiles’ lap, hands bringing up the front of her dress to cover herself, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Stiles wipes a hand over his mouth. “Pietra-”

Pietra turns away and repeats, “I _said_ I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice is clipped and brooks no argument. 

“I know what you said.” Stiles hurriedly adjusts his jeans, “and I’m not going to make you explain.” He moves closer to tentatively reach for her, “hey.” Stiles waits until Pietra looks at him. “I said that all you had to do was tell me to stop, and I will, in regards to _anything_. Here, let me help you.” He takes the ends of the halter and carefully ties them around Pietra’s neck.

“You’re not upset?”

Stiles shakes his head, “of course not.” He brushes a gentle kiss on Pietra’s left shoulder, “this only works for me if we both want it.”

Pietra adjusts slightly, smiling sadly at the kiss. “I want to tell you. I mean, I really _should_. You have a right to know just how fucked up I am before you get inves-”

“Hey, hey, no,” Stiles nudges his nose behind Pietra’s ear. “You’re not fucked up, trust me.”

“You d-”

Stiles presses a finger to Pietra’s lips, “you’re not any more fucked up than I am.” He blows out a shaky breath, “there’s a lot I should tell you; a lot that I probably should have told you _months_ ago.” Stiles rubs a hand over his eyes, “I get how hard it can be to open up to someone new, believe me.”

“We did this all wrong, didn’t we?”

Stiles’ brows furrow, “what do you mean?”

“I just mean, we know very little about each other.”

“There’s no right or wrong.” At Pietra’s look, Stiles amends, “Okay, there are definitely wrong ways to do _certain_ things, but I really don’t think we did any of them.” He kisses Pietra’s cheek, “I really like you, and I want to get to know you better. If that means we wait to have sex, then so be it.”

Pietra’s mouth twists, “that’s very adult of you.”

Stiles laughs softly. He presses his face into Pietra’s skin, “adulting is _so hard_ sometimes.”

Pietra laughs, one hand coming up to pet along the side of his face, “poor baby.”

Stiles whines.

"Can I ask you something?”

Stiles lifts his head to look at Pietra, “anything.”

“Have you been avoiding me?” Pietra’s eyebrows lift at the way Stiles’ heartbeat speeds up. “You have.” She frowns, “why?”

“It’s stupid.” Stiles hooks his chin over Pietra’s shoulder. He opens his mouth to speak, and can’t find it in himself to.

Pietra shifts to face him. “Stiles, if I did something that made you uncomfortable, you need to tell me.”

“It’s not that.” Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. “I let someone else’s opinion of me get in the way of how I felt about you.”

“Let me guess. Chris?”

Stiles nods. “I ran into your partner a few weeks ago, and he brought up my past. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve done some things in my life that I shouldn’t’ve-” Stiles' face hardens, “but for him to bring that up, _while I was with my daughter_ , was uncalled for. You’re an adult, and you can make your own choices. He had no right to say what he did, but at the same time, I shouldn’t have let it affect how I treated you.”

"I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby,” Stiles soothes, “it’s not something _you_ need to apologize for. _He’s_ the jerk, not you.”

Pietra wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, he kinda is, plus, he’s an overprotective jerk.”

“I totally get that.”

“It actually caused a big fight, with _plenty_ of witnesses.” 

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad.”

“The fight happened in the bullpen at work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Not one my finest moments.”

“Awww,” Stiles pulls Pietra into his arms, “my fierce little she-wolf.”

Pietra scowls, but burrows against Stiles’ chest. She shuts her eyes, and teases, “let’s see if you call me that when I’m yelling at _you_.”

Stiles chuckles, “bring it on, baby. Bring. It. On.”

* * *

Pietra stretches with a jaw-popping yawn.

“Ow. That sounded painful.”

“Mmmff.” Pietra turns to squint at the television, “how long was I out?”

“Not long at all.” Stiles smooths Pietra’s hair off her face, “I turned the movie off as soon as you dozed off. Rough day?” He laughs at annoyed look Pietra levels on him, “what?”

“Stop.” Pietra snuggles back against his side, “just stop being so perfect.”

“Yeah,” Stiles drags the word out as he wraps his arms around Pietra, “I don’t know if I can do that.” That earns him a snort of laughter. “You know that you can talk about your day if you want, right? Even if it’s just to vent about how horrible it was.”

“I know.”

“But you won’t,” Stiles guesses, “because when you’re here you don’t want to think about work.”

Pietra lifts her head to look Stiles in the eyes, “exactly.” She smiles sleepily, “when I’m here all I want to do is relax and spend time with _you_.”

Stiles returns the smile.

“I love that I can come here after work and just _be_.” Pietra rests her cheek against Stiles’ chest. “You never ask anything of me.” She takes a deep breath, “it’s like you’re fine with whatever I want to do.”

“Want me to let you in on a little secret?” Stiles finger-combs through Pietra’s hair, “I am.”

Pietra laughs softly, “yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Neither of them says anything for a few minutes.

It’s Pietra that speaks first, her voice barely above a whisper, “that feels good.” She nuzzles against Stiles’ ribcage, “really, _really_ good.” At the feel of Stiles’ nails lightly scratching the base of her skull, Pietra moans softly. She shifts until she’s lying halfway on top of Stiles, “you’ve been very patient with me.”

Stiles tilts his head, “patient?”

Pietra nods, “yeah.” She traces along the open collar of Stiles’ button-front shirt, “with the whole sex thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been weeks, and we still haven’t had sex.” Pietra eases the first one, then a second button free of its fastening, “most guys would be-”

Stiles presses a finger to Pietra’s lips. “I’m not ‘most guys,’ Pete. Besides, it’s not like we get a lot of time together. We usually only see each other at the end of our busy days. That, and there’s the whole,” he waves his hand in the direction of Harley’s bedroom, “single dad thing.”

“Yeah,” Pietra grins, “there is that.”

“Hey,” Stiles narrows his gaze at her, “what’s that grin for?”

Pietra feigns innocence as she continues unbuttoning Stiles’ shirt, “nothing.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Oh?” Pietra slips her fingers under the edge of Stiles’ shirt. She drags the backs of her nails along Stiles’ skin as it gets exposed. 

Stiles hisses through his teeth, “uh-huh.” 

Pietra dips her head to kiss along Stiles’ ribs. She smiles at the way Stiles squirms when she licks around the perimeter of his nipple. “Shhh,” a mischievous grin lifts Pietra’s lips, “you don’t want to wake Harley, do you?”

“N-ah,” Stiles gasps at the flick of Pietra’s tongue, “no.”

“Didn’t think so.” Pietra seals her lips over Stiles’ nipple, sucking gently. Her laughter vibrates in her throat at the way Stiles bucks up. When she looks up, he has both hands clamped over his mouth. “That sensitive?”

Stiles nods.

“If this is how wound up you get when I play with your nipples,” Pietra pouts, “what are you going to do when I’m sucking your cock, baby?”

“Holy shit.” Stiles sits up to pull Pietra into his lap, “you do realize that I have a bedroom, right?” He pulls the drawstring on her shorts and slips his hand down the front. “A bedroom I can easily carry you into.”

Pietra nods, “I know.” She shifts her hips forward into Stiles’ exploring fingers and whispers into his ear, “I want to see the inside of it.” Pietra bites her bottom lip, “as much as I want you to shove those long fingers of yours inside me.”

“I swear,” Stiles groans against Pietra’s shoulder, “you only say shit like that because you know what it does to me.”

“Not true.” Pietra rolls her hips, gasping at the feel of Stiles’ fingers working over her, “it’s not the only reason.”

Stiles smiles against Pietra’s skin, “good to know.” He turns to watch her face as he eases a finger beneath the thin cotton of her panties.

_“Stiles.”_

Stiles tilts his head to ask quietly, “what, baby?”

Pietra's breath hitches around a hard swallow. Her mouth drops open in a moan, “you know what.”

“I need you to say it.” Stiles brushes his lips over hers, “we talked about this, remember?”

“I know.” Pietra nods, leaning in to deepen the kiss.

Stiles sighs into the kiss. He allows himself to enjoy it for a brief time and then squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls back. It takes all Stiles’ willpower, but he does it.

“No,” Pietra whines low in her throat. She curls an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, “don’t stop, _please_.” Pietra reaches between them with her free hand, fingertips smoothing over the back of Stiles’ hand as it withdraws from her shorts, “I want more than fingers inside me _.”_

Stiles sits forward slightly, “you’re sure?”

Pietra nods as she reaches for her purse, “I’m sure.” A corner of her mouth tilts up as her hand unzips the bag, and disappears into it, only to pull a string of condoms from inside it.

Stiles laughs. He clears his throat pointedly, “that’s _a lot_ of condoms.” The statement earns him a shrug. Stiles tries to fight a smile, “not sure we can use all of those in one night.”

“We can try? Start with one, and work through as many as possible.” Pietra tightens both legs around Stiles’ waist as he stands, “how’s that sound to you?”

Stiles adjusts Pietra in his arms, “sounds like a plan, beautiful.” 

It’s nothing short of a miracle Stiles manages to make it to the bedroom without running into anything, what with Pietra kissing him roughly. His hands are under Pietra’s t-shirt, undoing her bra even as he’s kicking his bedroom door shut.

“I can’t wait to get all your clothes off.” Pietra shoves Stiles’ unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, “I’ve been imagining it since that time I saw you in the pool.”

Stiles laughs as he lets the shirt slide off his arms and to the floor, “you’ve been picturing me naked?”

“Yeah.” Pietra tugs her t-shirt up over her head, tossing it aside carelessly before flinging her bra away as well. “I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you for almost as long as I’ve known you.” She kisses him, “you smell so good. I don’t know what it is, but my wolf wants to rub all over you, to scent you, taste you, all of it.”

_“Oh my-”_

Pietra eases her feet to the ground, asking quietly, “too much?”

Stiles shakes his head, “no.” He kisses down the center of her chest. His lips seal over one of her nipples, sucking gently.

Pietra gasps, hands clutching at the back of Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ fingernails drag down Pietra’s sides as he continues down the center of her body. Stiles flicks his tongue into Pietra’s navel, smiling at the small squeak of surprise it elicits. He laughs softly, “Shhh.”

“Sorry.”

“S’ok.” Stiles tugs Pietra’s shorts and panties down over her hips. He brushes a gentle kiss over the ragged scars on her lower abdomen. His hands tighten around Pietra’s hips when she tries to pull away. Stiles looks up from where he’s kneeling on the floor, “did I hurt you?” 

Pietra shakes her head, “no.”

Stiles smiles up at her, “then relax.” He kisses one hip, then the other, all while maintaining eye contact. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Then how about you get up on that bed, and spread your legs for me?”

“Okay.” Pietra leans back on her elbows, “you do realize that not a lot of people get to tell me what to do?”

Stiles grins, “and yet for me, you’re laying yourself out like a buffet and all I had to do was ask nicely.” He winks, dipping his head to press a kiss to the inside of Pietra’s knee. “I feel so honored.”

“You should.” Pietra lifts her leg to rest a foot on Stiles’ shoulders. “Not many have gotten to do what y-” She arches up at the feel of Stiles’ tongue, _“Oh my.”_

Stiles hums, and his arms curl around Pietra’s thighs. 

Pietra has a split second to prepare and then Stiles’ hands are holding her open for his mouth. She tilts her hips up, gasping at the gentle licks. His tongue delves a bit deeper, and it makes Pietra jerk. She whispers an urgent, “sorry!”

Stiles looks up to scold, “stop apologizing.” And then he’s back to licking and sucking at her clit.

Pietra squeezes her eyes shut, teeth savagely biting down on her fist to keep from making noise. It’s like Stiles knows just what she needs. One second he’s lapping at her, the next he’s sucking, and just when she’d ask for more, Stiles eases a single finger into her.

“That what you wanted?”

Pietra nods wordlessly.

“Or was it this?” Stiles works a second finger into her, curling them to search for her g-spot. He doesn’t wait for an answer, simply goes back to eating her out as his fingers ease in and out.

The feel of his thumb rubbing over her clit makes Pietra whimper, _“Stiles.”_

“Yes?” 

“I’m gonna come.”

“Already?”

Pietra blows out a shaky breath, “yes.”

Stiles works his fingers quicker, “think you can be quiet?”

“I don’t,” Pietra swallows hard, “I don’t know.”

Stiles stills his fingers, “how about we see?” He dips his head, lips sealing around Pietra’s clit and sucking hard. 

Pietra’s legs are trembling, her toes curling almost painfully. “Please, please,” a broken sob escapes, _“pleasepleaseplease.”_

Stiles’ fingers twist inside her, working her closer and closer, 

Pietra’s eyes flare bright, and she slaps both hands over her mouth as the orgasm moves through her body. She shakes through it, the muscles in her legs twitching violently. She’s not even aware of the tears until Stiles leans over her to wipe at her eyes.

“You okay?”

Pietra nods.

“Damn, baby. That was…”

“What?”

“That was intense.” Stiles rubs a hand over Pietra’s leg, “you’re _still_ shaking.”

“I know.” Pietra struggles to catch her breath. “I really needed that.”

Stiles leans close to whisper on Pietra’s lips, “yeah?”

Pietra smiles into the kiss, “mmm-hmm.”

“So, tell me,” Stiles holds the string of condoms up, “you want to do the honors, or should I?”

Pietra holds up her claw-tipped hands.

“I’ll just,” Stiles gestures to himself. “I’ll do it. You can do the next one.”

“‘kay.”

Stiles chuckles softly, “you’re so cute when you’re post-orgasmic.” 

Pietra frowns.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘okay’ like that.” Stiles leans over Pietra, nuzzling at her lips with a smile, “it’s a good thing. I like it. ‘Kay?” He braces a hand on the bed and shifts his hips forward as Pietra lifts a leg to curl around his hip. Stiles stares into Pietra’s eyes, and promises softly, “if you need me to stop, I will.”

“I know.” Pietra’s mouth drops open as Stiles eases into her. She pleads softly, “don’t stop.”

“I’m not,” Stiles pants against her throat. “I need,” he sucks in a breath when Pietra shifts under him, “just gimme a second.”

Pietra freezes, “ _oh_. I thought you stopped because of- never mind.” She stares up at the ceiling, struggling to not move.

“It’s not, trust me. It’s just been a while, and you feel really good.” Stiles lifts his head to look at her, “I’m supposed to be taking care of _you,_ remember?”

“You did.” Pietra chews on her bottom lip, “I mean, you already made me come once. I’d say that’s taking care of me. Anything after that is cake. Who cares if you come in ten seconds or ten minutes? I don’t. If you do come before I’m done with you, I’ll just make you go down on me again.”

Stiles laughs. “I’d like to think I’d last a little longer than ten seconds.” He hisses at Pietra undulating her hips, “you little minx.”

“Two.” Pietra snaps her teeth at Stiles, “three.” She curls a hand around Stiles’ neck, “ four.” Her breath hitches, “five.” Pietra pulls him down, “six.” She whispers against his lips, “seven.” A smile curls her lips, “eight. Almost there. Nine.”

Stiles groans at the way Pietra’s hips roll upwards into his.

“Ten.” Pietra smiles, “congratulations, Stiles, you made it past ten seconds.” She teases, “think you can go longer?”

“Can you?” Stiles shifts his hips back, only to thrust deep.

“Mmmmfuck, you should do that again.”

“What, this?” Stiles thrusts again. “That what you wanted, baby?” He groans into Pietra’s rough kiss, answering each thrust of her tongue with one of his own. Stiles pulls back from the kiss to stare into Pietra’s eyes. “Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Stiles ducks his head.

Pietra coos up at him, “awww, you’re blushing.” 

Stiles laughs.

“You’re,” Pietra’s eyes roll back into her head at the shift of Stiles’ hips. She takes a breath, and assures him, “very attractive. _Mmmm_ , don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it.”

“Good. You should keep doing that. Right there. Just like that.” Pietra rakes her fingers through Stiles’ hair, “I won’t break if you fuck me harder, Stiles.”

“I know.”

“You still trying to keep from coming too soon?”

Stiles' breath escapes in an embarrassed laugh, “li’l bit, yeah.”

Pietra growls, “I want you to.” She fists her hands in Stiles’ hair, “I want to look in your eyes as you come. Will you look at me?”

“If m’lady wishes it,” Stiles smiles down at her. He wrinkles his nose at her, leaning to press a brief kiss to her lips.

“You’re such a-” Pietra freezes.

Stiles frowns, “I’m such a what?” 

Pietra whispers, “oh my god!” Pietra reaches to tug Stiles’ jeans up over his ass just in time to hear the bedroom door open. She mouths silently, _“sorry!”_

_“Daddy?”_

Stiles freezes, eyes wide, mouth dropping open in horror. He shifts to block Pietra from the doorway, “what is it, Monkey?”

“Are you and Aunt Pete making a baby?”

Pietra brings both hands up to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

Stiles’ face goes through a multitude of micro-expressions before he can actually speak. “No, sweetheart, we’re just-”

“Doing sex?”

Stiles mouths at Pietra, _“what do I say?”_

Pietra peeks around Stiles’ side, “would that be bad?”

Harley shrugs, “nuh-uh. You like my daddy, right?”

“I do.”

“Good, ‘cause my daddy _really_ likes you.” Harley yawns, “he talks to you in his sleep.”

Pietra smiles, “he does?” She reaches around behind herself for the bedspread.

Harley steps into the bedroom, “yeah.”

Stiles is frozen in shocked silence. He does, however, take the blanket when Pietra tugs it over them.

By the time Harley is standing by the bedside, both Stiles and Pietra are sufficiently covered. “Can I sleep in here with you guys?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to your dad, kiddo.”

“Daddy?” Harley levels her gaze on Stiles, “can I sleep in here? I promise I won’t kick.”

Stiles’ mouth opens and shuts, but no sound comes out.

“How about,” Pietra suggests, “you go grab your pillow, and a bedtime story for me to read to you, and maybe by the time you come back your dad will have an answer?”

“Okay.” Harley turns around and runs back to her room.

Pietra blows out a breathless laugh, “I think I just bought you a few minutes for your brain to reboot.”

“Holy shit.” Stiles flops onto his back, hurriedly fixing his underwear and jeans. He blinks in confusion when Pietra stills his hands to carefully remove the condom. Stiles’ hands are shaking as he zips his jeans up, “I’m a horrible dad.”

Pietra pats his stomach, “you’re really not.” She nudges his side, “hand me some clothes will ya?”

Stiles rolls out of bed, looking around for Pietra’s clothing. He grabs the first thing he sees: his discarded shirt. “Here,” Stiles holds it out to Pietra, “put that on until I find your stuff.”

Pietra shrugs into the garment, buttoning it up haphazardly. She’s still looking around for a trashcan as Harley’s footsteps rush back.

“I brought ‘Ste-luna’ to read, and I gots you this.” Harley holds out a stuffed bat.

“Uh,” makes a fist, and reaches out with her other hand, “thank you.” 

Stiles scoops Harley up, gesturing with his head towards the master bath, “let’s get us some water, okay, Peaches?”

“And one for Aunt Pete?”

Stiles nods with a smile.

Pietra watches Stiles carry Harley out of the room and hears him quietly tell her, _“you know her name isn’t ‘Aunt Pete,’ right? It’s Pietra. And you should probably ask her what she wants you to call her.”_

_“But I **like** ‘Aunt Pete,’ daddy.”_

_“I know, but still. You don’t like it when other people call you ‘Harleen,’ so it’s only fair you ask what Pietra wants you to call her.”_

_“Okay.”_

Pietra eases out of the bed, grabs her clothes, and ducks into the master bath. She washes her hands and splashes water on her face. Pietra is dressed and sitting in the center of the bed when Stiles and Harley return.

“Okay, look,” Harley’s face is deathly serious as she climbs up onto the bed, “daddy says I should ask you what you want me to call you. So yeah.” She sighs dramatically, then holds out a water bottle to Pietra, “this is for you, but don’t drink it all ‘cause then you gotta get up to pee when it’s dark, and that’s no fun.”

Stiles turns towards his dresser to hide his smile. He grabs a random t-shirt and tugs it on. When Stiles looks back towards the bed, his heart clenches. 

Harley is nestled against Pietra’s right side, one of Pietra’s hands cupped around her head as they speak. Pietra looks up then, a tiny smile on her lips. She winks and then goes back to her conversation.

Stiles stands there, frozen in place as he watches his daughter smile up Pietra. It makes something in him ache, and Stiles isn’t sure what to do with the sensation, but in the next instant Harley is calling out to him.

“Come on, daddy!”

Pietra grins at him, “yeah, come on, daddy. We’re waiting on you.”

Hours later, when Stiles is curled around his sleeping daughter, he’s still marveling at the fact that Pietra is asleep within reach. He’s even more surprised when, at the first sign of Harley’s nightmare, Pietra reaches out to soothe her with a hand along her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they remain the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them to play for a little bit. All the stories are done for fun, not profit.


End file.
